


To the Victor

by austere_things



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Social drinking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, byleth is a girl drink drunk, deviant hand-holding action, felix in a reverse bunny suit, fluff?, probably more tags if this goes on, relationship navel-gazing, smut?, so there's that, without the benefit of gloves even
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austere_things/pseuds/austere_things
Summary: These  two, Felix and Byleth, had been sparring, physically and verbally, from the very moment their paths crossed. They were so often at odds and their best - and most preferred - method of finding peace, both between themselves and with the warring world around them, was to cross swords. Even after five years of separation and loss, this odd pair still held that essential truth - though, after five years of reparative slumber for Byleth and five years of hard-fought war for Felix, these two now found themselves on mostly even ground. This, of course, meant that each victory was by just a breath - and the fact that such victories came so dearly seemed to naturally demand a suitable reward.Basically, a series of drabbles hung around the conceit of their sparring meant to connect the dots between “I’ll always be more comfortable holding a sword”, “I appreciate all that you do”, and “Let’s get married and stay together until we die.”
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 50
Kudos: 78





	1. See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her father's death, Byleth searches for a way to keep going. Felix helps her out.

Everything was in upheaval. Before these moments, Byleth had never felt. It was only later, at Garreg Mach, that she realized that she never knew what she was missing by not trusting in the warmth of others. She never imagined that she could or would want the days back when she was nothing but a demon haunting the battlefields.

And then her father had been taken from her.

The wound of this loss was so much more than any Byleth had experienced before. Nothing worked to salve away the pain and no whiskey, no matter how strong, could ease the bitterness from her stilled heart. In her weakness, she had taken to the familiar silence of isolation; even pleas for reason from Sothis fell on willfully deaf ears.

It was sometime later that the loud knock came upon her door.

Byleth barely raised her eyes from the map spread before her. She assumed that this visit would unfold the same as every other time a student or faculty member came to see her: they would knock, offer a few kind words through the door, and then leave. She had learned that she could often convince them that she wasn’t there, if she stayed still and quiet.

This time, however, was different.

Louder and much more forceful, the knock repeated. However, instead of the faint sound of a voice, the knock was chased closely by the unexpected noise of the doorknob jiggling under an insistent hand. A moment too late, Byleth remembered that she had forgotten to lock the door.

Growling a curse against her own foolishness, she reached for the sword she had left leaning against the side of her desk. She pulled herself to her feet and turned toward the opening door. She had no intention of wounding the person intruding into her grief, but she also had no reservations about giving them a fright.

The sword was brought around in a solid swing.

Byleth had deliberately chosen the sort of maneuver that even a beginner could easily dodge. What she had never expected was that her swing would be caught and deflected by the sword of another. The noise of their clash rang loudly in the stillness of her room, but his voice was louder still.

“So you finally show some sign of life. I had thought you’d lost your hunger.”

“And I thought you’d know better than to go where you aren’t wanted.”

Narrowed eyes of cobalt and of amber bore into each other. There was a drawn out moment where neither side seemed willing to blink let alone to yield. In the heavy silence between them, Byleth found the hidden laughter of the goddess to be particularly loud. Still, she easily chose to ignore what only she could hear.

Then, in an unexpected moment, she caught a brief flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes. She was more than used to Felix regarding her coldly. Smugness was just as familiar. Pity would have been something new, but it wasn’t exactly that either. Though Byleth knew that she was quite poor when it came to reading or understanding emotions, she could almost convince herself that she saw something akin to concern or worry hidden in the depths of his eyes. It immediately knocked her off-guard. 

With a quiet sigh, she slid her gaze away from his. Her sword came to an idle position at her side and she turned to replace it where she had found it. She gestured vaguely for Felix to have a seat as she resumed her own by the desk. Her hand reached for the half empty bottle of whiskey set close to the lantern and she searched a moment before finding a pair of tea cups half-hidden beneath a stack of paper. Quickly, she made sure they were clean before she tipped a generous portion of the alcohol inside. She held out one of the cups in offering to him, then quirked a curious eyebrow when he made a face at it.

“It’s fine. It’s just whiskey,” Byleth assured him. It took her a moment to realize the reason behind his reaction and, once she did, she shook her head at herself. “Ah, I guess it’s sort of a bad idea for a professor to offer her student a drink, hm?”

“It has to be better than that cloying tea you drink all the time,” Felix countered. He did finally reach to accept the offered cup, but he seemed hesitant to take an actual sip, despite his words. “At least this doesn’t seem to be more than half sugar.”

Dark eyes narrowed at him over the rim of her cup. She stared at him in silent challenge for a moment as she swallowed a rather large mouthful. “So you say, but you haven’t taken a single sip yet, Fraldarius.”

“You’re just proving how desperate you are to not drink alone,” he pointed out. Still, either pride or pressure made him lift the cup to his lips. He took a large sip meant to match hers, then winced at the unfamiliar burn. For a moment, he seemed fine. He even turned a smug look to her a moment before the harsh coughing began. Immediately, he lifted a hand to his mouth as all the skin of his face, neck, and ears turned alarmingly red.

In an instant, Byleth was on her feet. A second later, she was seated beside him on the bed. Without even thinking of what she was doing, she firmly stroked her hand along his back to soothe his cough as she reached around him for the glass of water she’d left on her nightstand. She pressed the glass immediately into his hand and, with a nod, she encouraged him to drink as much as he was able.

“Just breathe. You’re fine,” she murmured to him. She watched him carefully as his choking slowed and eventually stopped. “See if you can take some water, now. It’ll help the burn.”

With an unsteady hand, Felix lifted the glass and took an experimental sip of the water. Then another when it went down with no trouble. After a long moment, he turned his face to her and, even through the dark fringe of his freshly escaped hair, he appeared to still be quite flushed. Half-hidden, his amber eyes swam in the low light.

Byleth was a bit shocked to see no anger in those eyes. She had expected that his wounded pride would make him lash out or, at the very least, would cause him to demand that she give him some space. Still, he allowed her to sit close enough to nearly lean her chin against his shoulder. Close enough so that she could smell the whiskey on him as his breath washed over her. Still, he allowed her to freely move her hand over his back without bristling and raising a fuss. Even In a time that was overflowing with mysteries, this stood out to her.

Then, as if reading her thoughts, Felix stiffened and turned his face to the side. His entire posture changed as he drained nearly the entire glass of water in one sip. Once the glass was empty, he idly rubbed it between his palms. He made no move to pull his freely fallen hair back and so it hid his expression as the silence spun on.

Byleth decided to have mercy.

If only to break the increasingly awkward silence, she apologized. “I’m sorry, Fraldarius. I forgot that you wouldn’t be used to drinking straight whiskey and es—“

“Fight me.”

The utter unexpectedness of his blurted out request pulled her to an absolute halt. Caught halfway between standing and sitting, she blinked at him for a moment, but she couldn’t seem to find a suitable answer for his request. “Wh-what? Isn’t demanding an honor duel over some whiskey a bit much?”

His forehead creased as he frowned and shook his head. “No, not for the damned whiskey. I don’t care about that.”

Now back on her feet, Byleth turned to face him. Arms crossed under her chest, she regarded him curiously for a very long moment before speaking again. “Alright, then why? If it’s because I attacked you earlier, please remember that you came into my room without invitation. You’re just lucky I pulled my punches.”

Felix snorted a vague laugh. “That isn’t it, either. That was good. It was the first time I’ve seen any real life from you since…” 

As he trailed awkwardly off, he shook his head again. “Well, I guess that’s it, really. In your grief, you’re letting your blade grow dull. It’s beginning to rust in your hands. You’ve stopped yourself from moving forward. Is it because you’re just waiting to hear that the Knights have found the culprit so you can go hunt for her head?”

“Alois promised that he’d come tell me himself as soon as they found anything,” she answered quietly. Dropping her gaze from his, she stared at the floor between them for a moment as she worried at her lip. “I begged Rhea not to send all the Knights out on this. I told her that I could go hunt on my own, but she wouldn’t listen. If anything happens to this place while they’re out hunting shadows…”

“Then fight me,” Felix repeated his request. “If just to keep your blade sharp enough to claim the revenge you desire.”

Byleth drew a deep breath, held it for a long while, and then slowly exhaled. Finally, she nodded slowly. “Alright.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” As he spoke, his voice easily gave away his eagerness to cross swords with her again. “Tomorrow, before classes, meet me at the training grounds.”

She held up a hand to gesture for his attention. “You didn’t let me finish. Alright, but with one condition.”

“Hm? And what would that be?”

“Well, I’m doing you a favor by going back to sparring with you,” Byleth pointed out. Tilting her head to the side, she glanced at him almost slyly. “A favor deserves a favor, don’t you think? Why don’t we put stakes on it?”

“Stakes? As in betting?” Felix scowled a bit. “That sort of cheapens the entire experience.”

“Well, if you aren’t confident…”

“It has nothing to do with confidence,” he muttered. “The pursuit of strength should be enough.”

Byleth paused to think for a long moment before trying again. “Then let’s make it so that the winner gets to call for a favor from his opponent, like you did just now when you asked me to fight you.”

Felix considered a moment, then smirked. “To the victor goes the boon, then.”

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  


The very next day, Byleth won her first boon. Not by her own planning, it was more than a month before she was able to claim it from Felix. 

The major part of the delay came from the fact that Rhea had begun to demand more time from her. Ever since she had merged with Sothis and inherited her power, Byleth had found herself constantly under the watchful eyes of the Archbishop. It had become difficult for her to sneak away for even a few moments of peace; escaping long enough to put her plans into motion was downright impossible.

The other part of the delay was simply Felix, himself. 

Ever since the events in the forest, Felix seemed to be avoiding her. Where there would usually be endless demands for sparring, there was now silence. Where there would be invitations to train, there was nothing. Even brief conversations in passing dealt more with the upcoming battles than with anything personal. As it grew closer to the middle of Pegasus Moon and his birthday, Felix became both worse in attitude and more adept at avoiding her.

Still, Byleth was determined to corner him into having tea with her for his birthday. In the few moments she was free, she learned his favorite teas. Once she had that information, she took the time to test a number of recipes for desserts that would pair well with it while not being too sweet for his tastes. Those recipes she tested on Sylvian and Ingrid and, while they ate, she did her best to figure out what Felix enjoyed beyond the obvious swords and battle. After that, she approached Dorothea and Annette for help with choosing a particular gift. Now, she had all the preparations in place; the only thing missing was the guest of honor. 

Unfortunately, Felix was as adept at dodging her as he was at fighting her and, in the end, she gave to him here what she never had in the training grounds.

Byleth yielded.

She left a simple, plain note pinned to his door. On the threshold of his room, she left a neatly wrapped package as well as a packet of both pine and of spiced teas. Under these, she placed a tin of cookies spiced carefully to compliment the teas.

Though she knew that just leaving them in this way didn’t make the tea party which she had initially envisioned for him, Byleth reasoned that, this way, Felix would have some way of marking the day as special. She just wished that he didn’t feel that he had to celebrate it on his own. 

“What do you think you’re doing, leaving all that garbage by my door?”

Without turning to face him, she lifted a single shoulder in a shrug and moved her hand to tap a finger against the pale blue of the envelope. “Read it, if you really care. You don’t seem to want to talk to me, anyway.”

Byleth expected the frustrated noise Felix made in response to her actions. What she hadn’t anticipated was the brush against her cheek, first of warm skin and then of stiff material, as he reached over her shoulder for the note. She fought against herself not to blush or fidget as the heat of his presence lingered against her back.

He read in silence for a moment, then she felt the puff of his sigh tickle against the back of her neck and slightly shift a few strands of her mint green hair. “If it really bothers you so much, you don’t have to accept my boon. This is new for both of us so--”

“Fine. It’s fine. You already went to all this trouble.” Another sigh teased over her skin before she heard him take a step back. “Just move so I can pick all that up.”

Nodding briefly, Byleth stepped to the side, then crouched to help him gather together the packages. “Do you want me to just leave them on your desk, then?”

“Might as well,” Felix nodded. Once everything had been picked up, he stood and opened the door for her. “We might as well have the tea in here, too. It’d be too much bother to carry all this back downstairs.”

Once inside, they worked together to put together an impromptu tea party.

As Byleth set the water to boil and measured the tea into cups, she patiently ignored the face Felix made upon seeing the cookies. Instead, she gestured toward the wrapped gift. “Try opening that, if you’re bored enough to make faces at my gifts. I want to see how truthful they were being when they told me about you.”

“They?” The flat tone to his voice made it clear that Felix wasn’t amused, but he still took the neatly wrapped present into his hands. Leaning against the front of his desk, he quickly worked open the paper and pulled free a small but ornately carved box of dark wood. He tilted his head curiously as he carefully lifted the hinged lid. As he did so, a lilting, tinkling melody filled the room.

Hearing the song for the first time, she paused with the tea cups in her hands and turned her attention to him. Almost greedily, she took in the open pleasure she found in his expression - the way his amber eyes were so warm, the way his lips were touched by the ghost of a smile, the way his fingers tapped gently against the side of the box. She couldn’t say she had ever seen him in such a way before, but she knew that she wanted to do everything she could to see it again. 

Once the song had played through, Felix carefully closed the lid and lifted his glance to meet hers. “Sylvain and Ingrid, they’re the ones you talked to about me.”

“Mm,” Byleth nodded easily enough. Crossing to him, she offered one of the cups. “Don’t be mad at them. It was my idea. I had no idea what to get you, aside from something like another sword or a whetstone. Or a month’s supply of jerky.”

He smirked a bit at that as he gratefully took the offered cup. Taking a light sip, he shook his head. “I’m not mad. Just surprised. I haven’t heard that song in...in a very long time.”

She gave him a questioning glance as she sipped at her own tea. “You know, they didn’t tell me much about the opera. Just that you like it.”

Felix almost seemed a bit embarrassed as he roughly shrugged his shoulders.”It’s not really anything that special. I just liked the music from it.”

“Hm,” Byleth hummed her curiosity. She knew that it was a poor decision to press him when he was so clearly uncomfortable, but she so rarely had a chance to hear him talk of anything but swords and battle; she couldn’t help herself. “I wouldn’t know. That song is really nice, though. What’s it about?”

As if weighing the seriousness of her question, he stared at her hard for a very long while, but then sighed. Setting his cup on the desk behind himself, he gently opened the lid of the music box and closed his eyes as the song began again. 

“The opera, it’s a story about a young musician whose lover dies because of the whims of fate. Even for an opera, it’s a pretty trite story,” Felix explained quietly. A faint color touched the tip of his ears as he crossed his arms over himself, but he did manage to continue. “This song is the one the musician plays before Death in order to convince him to return his lover.”

Byleth allowed the pause to be filled with the sound of the song. Aside from what she had picked up in taverns, she knew nothing of music; operas were especially outside of her experience. Still, she thought she could hear a certain longing, a quiet plea, to the song. “Does it work? Does Death let her go?”

Felix shook his head as the last notes of the song hung in the air. “He does, but the musician fails to protect her on the journey home. She’s lost and Death returns to reclaim her.”

“So, it’s a tragic ending?” She tilted her head and set her own cup aside. “I guess that’s appropriate.”

He opened his eyes to glance at her sharply. “What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

Taking one of the cookies from the bin, she took a small bite and shrugged her shoulders. “I just can’t see you enjoying something with a...fanciful or happy ending. It doesn’t seem like you.”

“Because life doesn’t work that way. Happy endings aren’t--”

“Life and operas, stories in general, are two different things, Fraldarius.” Byleth pointed out, interrupting him. “You can think life is a tragedy, but still enjoy a story where things go well.”

“It’s nonsense,” Felix muttered. “There are no happy endings unless you forge them yourself.”

She opened her mouth to argue against his fatalist nonsense, but her words were lost in a loud knock at the door. 

Both heads turned just in time to see Sylvain casually open the door and let himself inside. Ingrid, her arms laden with packages and other goods, was a step behind. Upon realizing that Felix was not alone and sulking as expected, both new visitors paused just inside the doorway, but Sylvain was the first to break into a slanted grin.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” the redhead drawled. An eyebrow arched, he glanced slowly from professor to student. “Are we interrupting something? Should we leave you two alone?”

“No, it’s fine,” Byleth shook her head. “We were just about done and it looks like you two have plans for Felix, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Ingrid immediately objected. “You don’t have to go, Professor! We can all celebrate, together. We brought plenty of food and it’ll be more lively with more people.”

“Or you could  _ all  _ leave and give me the gift of peace and quiet,” Felix muttered to no one in particular. “Goddess forbid I want some time for myself.”


	2. Give Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After five years, Felix chases hope to the halls of Garreg Mach and finally claims a boon five years in the making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so, this is another NSFW chapter. There's a sex scene at the end and, while it's not super explicit, it's still something you might want to skip if you're underage or if you just aren't into that sort of thing. Thanks!

Everything was in upheaval, but it had been that way for nigh on five years, now.

It had been five years of endless fighting and there was still nothing to show for it; just a kingdom in shambles and desperate people looking for anything which might give them the smallest shred of hope. It would normally fall to a strong leader or a king to provide at least that much, but their own was thought to be dead. Houses Gautier, Fraldarius, and Galatea scrambled to fill in some of the gaps in leadership, but every struggle seemed to be a losing battle. 

Even as he sat in the cold interior of his dimly lit tent, Felix reflected on the fact that he had once known hope. Though those days were long gone from him, he knew that he had once held some degree of expectation that the Boar could be caged before things spun entirely out of control. He had thought that even the threat of the Flame Emperor could be dealt with; he, or she as it turned out, was just another enemy to be fought and defeated, after all. Emperor or otherwise, she would bleed like any other opponent when she faced his sword. Unfortunately, he had been too naive to see the true shape of the threat looming in the shadows and he had been too inept to be able to protect the quiet flame of hope which he once had so close. 

Felix winced against that thought. He hated that, even after five long years, he was still chasing her ghost. He repeatedly told himself that he should simply lay the memory to rest and, during most of the daylight hours, there were more than enough other concerns to keep her from his mind; it was just during the long, quiet hours of the night that the specter of that final battle hung over him. Then, he couldn’t help but retrace those horrible last moments and he couldn’t help but remember the last glimpse he had of her before she was gone.

The quiet sound of the tent’s flap being opened jostled him from his dark thoughts and Felix quickly snapped shut the lid of the small, ornately carved box sitting on his knee. This, he immediately stuffed into the bottom of the rucksack lying near his left leg as he lifted his attention to the two who had come to disturb him.

“Told you he’d still be awake, Ingrid,” Sylvain commented as he easily moved to join Felix in sitting on the dirt floor of the tent. “You were worrying for nothing, again.”

Her uncertainty clear in her eyes, Ingrid lingered by the entrance. “That wasn’t why I was worried, Sylvain. ”

Sylvain made a dismissive noise. “You were the one who just told me that we should all get together to discuss this. You can’t start having cold feet about it, now.”

“What are you two talking about?” Felix demanded. “Did new orders come through?”

He glanced from one to the other, then made a slightly irritated noise. Rising from his spot on the floor, he dragged a set of chairs to the makeshift desk at one side of the tent and then put a low flame to the lantern sitting in the middle. Claiming one of the chairs for himself, he gestured for the other two to join him.

“Nothing new, yet.” Ingrid shook her head as she finally settled into the chair across from Felix. “I think the senior commanders are still trying to figure out where to go from here.”

“Who would’ve thought that losing the king would throw the entire army into disarray?” Sylvain made a poor attempt at levity, but his tone and expression betrayed his true feelings too easily. Giving up the effort, he rooted a brown bottle and three glasses from the bag hung against his hip. These, he set on the table and, without asking, he poured a shot for each of them. “I know...I know he wasn’t really _our_ Dimitri by the end, but it...we should do something, you know?”

Felix glared at the glasses in disgust. “That Boar hadn’t been our _anything_ in years and no one was strong enough to do anything about it.”

Ingrid threw him a horrified glance. “Felix!” 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged her. “Tell me that there was some kernel of good underneath the madness that damned this entire kingdom to suffering in the name of his revenge.”

“He wasn’t the reason the kingdom is suffering!” She objected heatedly. “How can you so easily forget that it’s the Adrestian Empire that caused this war? How can you just dismiss that it’s the Empire that’s trying to slowly choke the life from us?”

Felix slammed a gloved fist onto the desk, jostling the glasses and sloshing a bit of the whisky onto the surface. “And if we had an actual competent leader, then we might have more of a chance of actually being able to fight them off!”

“A competent leader like what the Alliance had, you mean?” Ingrid retorted. Bitterness dripped from her tone and shone in her eyes, but she didn’t shy away from his glare. “So, you’re just going to go crawling back to him, too, and completely abandon you home?”

Suddenly, Felix found himself at a loss. “Go crawling bac...I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bitterness slowly faded to doubt as Ingrid tilted her head at him. “You didn’t get the same letters, then?”

Felix shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about or why you’re so angry.”

“He did get the same letters, but he probably burnt them or something,” Sylvain muttered. Again, he turned his attention to the bag at his hip; this time, he produced a series of correspondences which he then laid on the table. “Are we going to actually talk, now, or do you two want to yell at each other some more?”

Felix made a face as he glanced at the letters scattered over the table. Absently, he noted that a few had happened to land with their sealed side upward, but his gaze sharpened as soon as he realized that the golden seal bore a very familiar design. “Why are they marked like that?”

“Try reading one to find out?” Sylvain suggested sweetly. “You might be surprised.”

Stubbornly, Felix crossed his arms. “Or you could cut the horseshit and just tell me.”

"You could both stop acting like idiots,” Ingrid rolled her eyes at the both of them. “Felix, I’m surprised you didn’t read the reports. The Alliance was recently seen marching under the banner of the Crest of Flames. No one knows why they’ve chosen that symbol, but they’re rumored to have entered an alliance with the Knights of Seiros.”

Felix shrugged. “Reports on or from the Alliance never seemed pressing enough to give much importance when the Empire’s constantly been at our neck. Their movements always seemed like a low priority, in the grand scheme of things, and they’re likely using that for their banner just as some sort of ploy.”

“Well, what do you think, Sylvain?” Ingrid asked as she turned her attention to the redhead. “You’ve actually read the letters, right? Is there anything useful in them?”

“Depends on what you’d call useful,” Sylvain responded slowly, then held up his hands when the other two glared at him. “Hey, I’m not trying to be clever when I say that. I’m really not sure anything in them is going to tell us anything we want to know.”

His expression turning more serious, he stared thoughtfully at the papers for a moment before continuing. “It’s pretty much how Claude always writes. He isn’t going to give away more than he needs or wants to, so it’s mostly just fishing to see if we want to come back. He did write something a little weird, though.”

Ingrid cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s that?”

Sylvain drew in a slow breath. Raising his head, he took a moment to find and to meet Felix’s glance before answering. “He said that the Professor finally kept her promise.”

Felix felt his own breath catch in his throat. His eyes widening, he stared at Sylvain for an extended moment. Almost frantically, he searched his face for any trace of humor or of jest and, when he found no trace of either, he quickly closed his eyes. Suddenly, Felix found himself caught in the strangest predicament, one where he wasn’t sure if he wanted more for the redhead’s words to be true or for them to be some elaborate lie. After all, if the Professor survived, then that meant that Felix had failed both to protect her during the battle and then to have faith in her afterward. Alternately, it meant that she could be alive and that he could finally claim his long held boon against her; it meant that he could finally surrender to her the one token of their time before the world spun to chaos.

“Claude’s lying,” Felix stated flatly. Every effort was made to keep his mannerisms calm and even as he gestured vaguely with a hand. “He’s just saying whatever he thinks will get us to come back.”

Though she didn’t understand the weight behind the mention of their professor’s promise, Ingrid nodded. “That’s what I think, too. If he’s trying to raise an army to repel the Empire, then he’s probably desperate to recruit anyone who’ll stand with him. He’d probably say anything to convince you.”

“Ok, but what if that isn’t it?” Sylvain asked. “What if the reason the Alliance is marching under the Crest of Flames is because she’s marching with them?”

“There’s no proof of that,” Felix spoke more harshly than he intended, but he was desperate to convince Sylvain - or maybe just to convince himself. “Claude is using that crest for no greater reason than that it’d let him freely gather allies. It’s either that or because he knows he can use the remnants of the church to manipulate the last of the faithful.”

Ingrid tipped her head. “That’s true. Maybe Claude’s just using it because of his alliance with the Knights.”

“It could just be a trick, sure,” Sylvain crossed his arms on the desk and leaned in a bit. “but don’t you want to see for yourself if it’s true? Don’t you want to see if she’s really kept her promise?”

Felix sharply turned his head to the side; there was no way he was going to answer that. “There’s no point. We’d be wasting the trip. We’re needed here, anyway.”

“We do need every blade we can find,” Ingrid agreed. “You both know what your leaving will mean for the rest of us.”

Sylvain had the grace to look a bit guilty, but he still shook his head. “Don’t be like that, Ingrid. You can come with us. I’m sure--”

“I already told you no,” she snapped. “I’m not abandoning my home and my friends in their time of need.”

“It’s not abandoning anyone,” Sylvain objected. “Claude’s a reasonable guy and there hasn’t been any outward hostility between the Kingdom and the Alliance. There’s no reason to think that he wouldn’t be willing to help draw the attention of the Empire so we can have some room to breathe. Some sort of arrangement can be made--”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ingrid stated firmly. “You two can run off if you want, but I’m staying here.”

For a moment, Sylvain seemed sincerely wounded by her firm refusal, but his expression returned to a calm neutral as he turned his attention to Felix. “C’mon, Felix. You know you want to go. We might be late to keep our promise to meet up for the millennium festival, but we can still see for ourselves if the professor came back.”

Felix didn’t answer immediately. He felt as if he couldn’t answer. Torn between loyalty to his home country and the dim flicker of hope, he didn’t quite know which way to turn. He knew that choosing to leave felt as if he were condemning Ingrid, Annette, Mercedes and all his other once-classmates and friends to defeat; yet, choosing to stay felt as if he were turning away entirely from the hope he had already failed once. 

Quietly, he muttered to himself an old saying he had always found meaningful. “Hope is an expensive commodity. It makes better sense to be prepared.” 

In the end, despite those words and despite his misgivings, Felix turned his back to his home and made the choice to chase hope to the halls of Garreg Mach.

* * *

  
  


When they arrived back to those halls where they had spent that fateful year, Felix and Sylvain were a bit disappointed, but not surprised, to find Garreg Mach in a state of disrepair. As they toured through the once familiar grounds, they found that all the structures and buildings were crumpled and partially dismantled. Rubble laid everywhere. Marks of the war touched everything in sight - and yet the people inside the buildings all seemed to hold a spark of something which had been sorely lacking in the world outside those partially fallen walls. 

When asked about it, the gathered were eager to talk of how Claude had arranged alliances. With even greater joy, they spoke of the professor who had returned to fight alongside the Alliance leader and the Knights of Seiros. That the woman the Archbishop had entrusted with one of the church’s most sacred relics now was fighting alongside them seemed to impress upon those gathered that they were somehow blessed by the very goddess herself.

Felix held none of that same belief. He easily dismissed it as superstitious nonsense, even if he was curious to see the woman who was inspiring such faith. Unfortunately, he quickly learned that the Professor had just left on a mission to help secure more supplies from a nearby town. He was told that it wasn’t a particularly dangerous or serious job, but it still meant that it would be a few days before Felix would be able to see the truth with his own eyes.

As it turned out, the day of their runion finally came without any great pomp or circumstance.

Felix had been lingering outside the marketplace. He’d just spent the last of his coin on restoring the damaged blade of a sword he particularly favored, but he had decided to take a minute to check the work before going to test it in the training grounds. His attention had been focused on the weapon and so he hadn’t glanced up when a noisy yet familiar group passed closely by; his head only snapped up when he finally recognized her voice among the din.

Five years later and there she was. He didn’t quite understand how it could be so, but she looked just the same as last he had seen her. Idly, he noticed how her hair, still the color of early spring, caught the late afternoon sun as she turned her head to address something Claude had just said. Still, whatever words she had never came forth; instead, her strange jade eyes widened as she looked past the Alliance leader and directly into his eyes.

Felix rather enjoyed the small, subtle tells of surprise on her face as she studied and surveyed him. It was all the same as it had been - the slight widening of her eyes, the upward curve of her lips, even the small tilt of her head. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Felix remarked with a tone of practiced casualness. “It’s a welcome surprise.”

He thought he caught a hint of something foreign in her eyes before she settled back to amusement. “For me, too. I wasn’t sure you and Sylvain would come back.”

Though it was less than fair, Felix found himself annoyed by her doubt. He opened his mouth to answer with a prickly comment, but his words were cut short by the unwelcome feeling of Claude tossing a companionable arm over his shoulders. 

Ignoring the answering glare, Claude offered Felix an easy wink as he draped his other arm over the professor’s shoulders. “I told you they’d come back, Teach. No one can resist being part of the winning team and there’s no way we can lose with how many strong allies we’ve gathered.”

“A country without a king has no future and no hope. That’s why I made my way here,” Felix gritted through clenched teeth. His expression hardening, he forcefully removed the arm from around his shoulders and stepped away from them. “I trust you two won’t let me down.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Claude answered with an easy gesture. “Though, Teach, we should get going. I think I can finally give you an answer for that question you asked me earlier.”

Byleth nodded to him, but quickly turned her attention back to Felix. “It..really is good to see you again, Fraldarius. I’m glad you came back to us. It means a lot.”

Silently, Felix watched as the two of them walked away together. He didn’t realize it, just then, but that was to be a common sight for him over the next few days and weeks - Claude and Byleth walking together, talking together, taking meals together, spending nearly every moment together. Though the rational part of his mind could understand that the demands of the war were great upon the two leading the cause, he couldn’t quite force the rest of his emotions to fully accept that he wasn’t being willfully avoided.

The longer this avoidance dragged on, the more Felix found it wore on him. He rationalized that he just wanted a chance to talk with his once-professor. After a long five year absence, he was eager to challenge her to a sparring match to see where they now stood. Perhaps most of all, he wanted to claim the boon he’d been carrying all this time, so that he could be free of the weight and the memories it pressed upon him. Still, he knew that none of this would be possible if he couldn’t find more than a spare moment to exchange words with her. Never was he one to chase after conversation or companionship, but it rankled him to not be able to capture her attention for more than a fleeting moment.

Then, one cold and stormy night, Felix found the chance for which he had been waiting. 

His chance had come while he paused for a brief moment outside the doors of the training grounds. Grimacing at the change in weather, he lifted his arms in order to draw up his hood, but he stilled upon catching unexpected movement across the way. When he squinted, he found that he could just barely distinguish a familiar form through the heavily falling sleet. Initially, he dismissed it as something firmly outside of his interest, but then the dim light filtered through the stained glass of the sauna windows illuminated a flash of mint green. Before he knew it, his legs were carrying him across the plaza and up the steps in hurried strides.

Somehow, Felix was only a pace behind Byleth as she came to the top of the steps. Without thinking, he reached for her and his gloved fingers wrapped around the entirety of her bare wrist; he wasn’t expecting that his grip would pull her to a short stop nor that her boots would slip against the slick stones. All at once, he felt her body fall against his chest and he instinctively lifted his free arm to circle her waist. He caught her, but his own stance was less than steady; with less grace than he would have liked, Felix found himself falling to the stone path. Fortunately, he did have the state of mind to twist himself on the way so that, at the very least, his professor’s fall would be cushioned by his body.

A quiet groan left him as his back landed against the sleet-slicked stones and his vision swam as his head hit hard enough to clash his teeth against his bottom lip. Felix tasted blood as he opened his eyes, but he could hardly focus on that when the entirety of his attention was filled with the fact that her face was suddenly so close to his own. Slowly, he became aware that some of her sleet dampened hair had fallen over his cheeks and forehead; he found that the tickle of it itched pleasantly over his skin and all the way along to his spine. Likewise, the warm whisper of her breath pulled his distracted gaze down to her slightly parted lips; he found himself wildly distracted by how wet and pink they were and his mind raced as he wondered how they would taste. 

Still, even with the physical evidence pressed so wonderfully against his body, Felix couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that this was real. He knew that there had been so many long nights when, in his weakness, he had eventually surrendered to delusions such as this; only afterward, in the low light of the campfire, did her image fade and he found himself tangled with someone he hardly knew.

Wanting to be sure, Felix reached for her. 

As he brushed the rough leather of his gloved fingers along her cheekbones and back into her hair, he rather liked the way that Byleth leaned into his touch. He greedily drank in how her eyes drifted partially closed as he brought his hand down to the nape of her neck. Here, he pressed lightly, urging her down until their yearning mouths found one another. 

What began as a tentative brushing of lips quickly became a tussle, but the connection was all too brief; nearly as soon as her tongue lapped his lip, Byleth jerked back. Annoyed and frustrated, he glared at her...and then he noticed a redness to her mouth which had nothing to do with the brief kiss which they’d just shared.

Byleth, too, frowned faintly. Her brow furrowed, she reached to brush the pad of her thumb under his lower lip. “You’re bleeding. I didn’t even notice.”

“What?” Felix snapped, then shook his head. “Yes, I guess I am, but it’s nothing. Why are you paying attention to that?”

He very badly wanted to reach for her so they could go back to how they were moments before, but it was clearly too late; Byleth was already pulling herself to her feet. 

“Don’t get up and walk away from me without saying anything,” he growled in frustration. Again, he thrust out his arm to grab her wrist. This time, he did manage to just stop her short instead of pulling her down, but he found himself annoyed that Byleth didn’t even so much as turn at his touch. “Goddess’s sake, just give me five minutes of your time!”

Byleth startled and, when she finally did glance at him over her shoulder, her expression was a strange mix of amusement and surprise. “It’s been five years, Fraldarius. Don’t tell me you’re trying to call your boon on me, now.”

His eyes widened in surprise, then quickly cut to the side. He had spoken the words out of frustration and so they didn’t really express the entirety of the boon he’d carried with him for those long years; still, it was close enough. “So what if I am? You made me wait this long. I think I have the right.”

“I guess you do,” Her tone was a touch guilty as she nodded. “Still, not here? This weather’s not great for conversation and we’re both cold and wet; the last thing the Alliance needs is for two of its strongest fighters to get sick.”

Ultimately, they came to the decision that they should return to the professor’s room; if nothing else, it was the closest and it would offer them the most privacy - provided that no one came looking for some late night guidance or assistance. The walk there was quick and mostly silent. Once the door was closed behind them and the single lantern on her desk was lit, Felix was both surprised and not to see that, much like its occupant, little about the professor’s room had changed in five years. 

A quick glance to his surroundings gave him a familiar impression: her desk and bed were both still cluttered with papers and maps. A set of tea cups, an old teapot, and a tin of sweets were still stacked atop the low shelves under the window. A few flowers were still set carefully in a vase on the windowsill. All of these things made a warm but slightly uneasy feeling settle in his stomach; the unchanged appearance of both the room and of Byleth made it seem as if no time had passed since last he stood here. Right now, he wasn’t fond of the idea of being the awkward student again, especially not after what had passed between them only moments ago.

Felix was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by the wholly unexpected feeling of something falling over his head, but, before he could question it, he became distracted by the fact that Byleth was suddenly very close. Her body, protected only by a thin layer of wet clothing, pressed firmly against his as she reached up to vigorously rub a dark-colored towel over his sodden hair. Even like this, there was a part of him that wanted to be upset over being manhandled in such a way, and he knew he should make a fuss... but the enthusiastic movement of her arms caused her body to rub against his own in an incredibly enjoyable sort of way. 

Initially, he had intended to use time earned with her in private to talk. He had wanted to discuss what had happened five years ago, what she’d been doing in the interim, and, perhaps most of all, _why she had never bothered to tell him that she was still alive_ ; now, all he wanted to do was to seize her lips in a proper kiss, to touch over inch of that body he could reach, to revel in the physical reminder that she was real and here and _alive_. 

The funniest thing of it all was that he could find no real reason _not_ to give into his temptation.

Felix firmly grabbed both of her wrists to still her arms, but, much as when they sparred, Byleth was a number of moves ahead of him. Yearning upward, she seized his lips in kiss which left him no quarter. This time, there was no hint of blood and only a brief pang of pain as she caught his lower lip between her teeth, but she soon surrendered that in favor of tasting his opened mouth.

As their tongues tangled and explored, Felix caressed his hands down along the leanly muscled undersides of her arms, but he paused when he came to the outer curve of her bodice. Against his lips, her breath caught in a small gasp as his hands cupped her breasts, but her soft noises turned to an outright moan as his thumbs circled and rubbed over her quickly hardening nipples. Her eyes were dark with her desire as Byleth drew back from the kiss and she hurriedly dropped her arms so that she could make quick work of the myriad buckles and belts and straps which held his sodden overclothes in place.

Felix knew he had the advantage and he chose to push it. His hands shifted from her breasts to her hips. He paused here for a moment, rubbing slow, languid circles over the warm skin just above the hem of her shorts, but that wasn’t enough to make him content. Instead of lingering here, he stroked up over her stomach, over skin and firm muscle, until he found his way back under her shirt. Here, he pushed up the fabric so that he could again cup the bare skin of her breasts and press her nipples between his fingertips.

“Your gloves,” Byleth gasped heatedly. She muttered a curse as her fingers fumbled with the last of the buckles, but then made a triumphant noise as his cloak finally fell to the floor. Now with much less interference, she allowed her own hands to begin to explore over the plane of his stomach and the ridge of his hips under the dark fabric of his turtleneck and pants.

“What about them?” Felix prompted, his voice showing a bit of smugness at how unsteady he had caused her voice to become. His eyes combed her face as he continued to tease her. Constantly, he adapted his touch to what seemed to draw forth the best reactions, but he never stayed with one method long enough to allow her to adjust. 

“ _Ass_ ,” She answered in a breathy gasp as he pinched her in a particularly pleasant way. Reflexively, her fingers tensed and her blunted nails left a series of red marks over the skin of his back and hips as she dragged her hands downward.

“That’s not my--” His words were cut short in a startled sound as her hands quite firmly grabbed and squeezed the aforementioned body part. A throaty chuckle left him as he allowed her to use her grip on his ass to pull his hips forward against her body. He rocked himself against her, pressing his growing hardness between them as she walked backward until her ass hit against the front of the desk. All it took was a quick swipe of her arm and there was enough clear space for her to hop onto the edge.

Once she was settled, Felix stepped eagerly closer. As her legs settled around his hips, Byleth threaded her arms around his neck. Her hands went immediately for his hair and, there, her fingers tangled deeply into the dark, silky mass. Her nails dragged and scraped against his scalp and he groaned appreciatively as he rocked up to claim her lips. His hands fumbled a moment at her waist as he shifted aside her clothes just enough to access the skin underneath and then moved to do the same for himself.

Once both of them were ready, he took a firm grip of her hips, pulled her forward, and rocked his hips upward. His first attempt was clumsy; all he managed was to slide his length against the warmth of her core, but Byleth still rewarded him with a quiet gasp against his mouth. Liking that sound, Felix repeated the movement, but, this time, she responded with an impatient nip at his lips. 

Drawing back a bit, Byleth pressed her cheek against his so that she could whisper hotly into his ear. “Not the time for a feint, Fraldarius. Either strike your target or yield.”

Felix had never been one to yield and so he took a moment to better align himself before shifting forward again. Finding a better angle, he was able to press himself fully into her and, as his length slid deliciously inside and filled her, Byleth moaned quietly against his ear. Her teeth caught and tugged at his earlobe and he voiced an answering groan against her shoulder. 

Caught in the tight heat of her, Felix quickly found that he simply didn’t have the willpower to stay still long. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her hips and lower back as he began to move with purpose and Byleth lifted her hips and shifted her body to meet each thrust. Reflexively, her hands tightened in and pulled at his hair as the tension between them built. 

Suddenly, Felix became aware that, between the tight warmth of her and the breathless sound of her voice chanting his name against his ear, he really wouldn’t be able to delay his release much longer. He wanted to hold out. He wanted to feel her tighten and grip around him as she came undone, but it had simply been too long and this was simply something he’d wanted too badly. 

Somehow, he found the remaining willpower to pull out from her heat before he groaned deeply in the back of his throat and his seed spilled sloppily over her lower stomach. Byleth loosened her grip on his hair and moved to instead wrap her arms around his shoulders. She held him lightly as he slowly unwound and relaxed from his climax, but he didn’t linger long in her embrace.

Stepping back from her, Felix suddenly found it a little bit difficult to meet her eyes and so he glanced, instead, off to the side. “That wasn’t what I wanted. You didn’t…”

“It’s fine, Felix. It still felt really nice,” Byleth attempted to reassure him. Shifting her position, she reached carefully over the side of the desk to retrieve the towel which had fallen to the floor. This, she used to quickly clean herself. “Still, when you asked me to give you some of my time, this isn’t what I thought you had in mind.”

“It wasn’t,” he admitted simply. “I really did just want you to give me some time to talk to you.”

“Well, we have the whole night ahead of us,” she sighed and tossed the towel to him. “Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is really kinda late and sorry that the next couple updates will probably be sporadic, too. At least, until things steady out here.
> 
> On the bright side, we'll be back to linear time (probably) with the next update so there's that. As ever, thanks for your patience and understanding!


	3. Hold Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix inadvertently reminds Byleth of the rather...unique run-in the two had on the evening of the dance all those years ago at the top of the Goddess Tower and she decides to test if he's learned or changed anything since.

The quiet rhythm of rain against the cobblestones outside crept in through her open window and Byleth freed herself of her bed and her nightclothes in the blink of an eye. Hurriedly, she pulled on the set of athletic clothes she had found among her things from so long ago and, tying her hair up into a loose tail, she stepped out into the rain-streaked half-light of very early morning.

This -- this was something quiet. This was something secret. This was something just for her.

She had taken fondly to the idea of exercising in the early morning rain when she was quite young and, though her father had laughed gently at her for it, he had never explicitly told her to stop. This same habit helped her to learn to tolerate and to manage her grief when she had so unexpectedly lost him much later, and it helped also to carry her through many of the more difficult moments that had come to pass over her strange first year at Garreg Mach. Really, the only reason she had ever stopped was because Seteth had come across her, soaked and breathless, one grey morning and the hours-long lecture which had followed had been a bit too much for her to want to hear again.

After reawakening to the world, though, Byleth had found herself falling back into her same old habits - but that was alright. No, it wasn’t just alright; it was _good_. It was good because it gave her a chance to clear her mind. It gave her a chance to think of new and better ways to help those who were now relying on her. It gave her a chance to reflect on new strategies. 

And it gave her a chance to share breakfast with her favorite denizens of the monastery.

They were waiting impatiently for her, as always. This particular morning, they had clustered together behind a sturdy stack of merchant’s crates and, as soon as they spotted her, they raised their voices in an eager greeting. She returned the greeting cheerfully and, shouldering the fishing rod she had reclaimed from her room once her run was finished, she headed along to the dock. Once there, she sat comfortably at the edge and cast into the rippling surface of the rain-disturbed pond.

The fish Byleth managed to reel in were tossed to the waiting mob of cats curled near by her side and, in between pulls, she helped herself to the bit of bread and hard cheese she had brought along for her own breakfast. All was peaceful and still, until the tell-tale sound of heavy boots walking along the pier caused her to brace for a repeat of that lecture from years ago.

“Is there a reason you’re fishing in the rain this early in the morning?”

“You’re out in the rain, too. Were you at the training grounds this early?” She paused, then, and tipped her head back so that she could peer up at Felix curiously. She studied him in silence for a moment and noted that, though the hood he had pulled up had protected his head from the worst of the rain, the shoulders and chest of his cloak were fairly soaked. “Or are you maybe just coming back from someone’s room?”

“You’re not clever,” Felix stated flatly. Still, despite the rain and despite his words, he gently shooed aside a few of the still-feasting cats so that he could sit beside her at the end of the pier. “I wanted to get some practice early, since I have to meet up with Lysithea later.”

Byleth grunted in response, but this was more due to the large fish she had just managed to pull from the pond than it was due to the topic of conversation. Once the fish was close enough to the pier, Felix reached to help her take it from the hook as she held the rod aloft. “Ah, I’m glad you two decided to get together. I really think learning some reason skills could be good for you.”

“I don’t need to know magic,” he muttered as he tossed the freed fish to the cats. “I do more than well enough with my sword.”

“Sure you do, but you can’t rely just on that - not with what we’re going to be facing in the days ahead. If a threat comes from across the field--”

“So teach me archery instead.”

“I _was_ considering having you take some lessons with Leonie. Or maybe Claude, but I don’t think he’d have the time.” Byleth chewed lightly at her lower lip as she turned the possibilities over in her mind. She knew that it was a bit too late to really set any of her once-students down a new path, but there were certain talents that she’d seen in them that she knew could still be useful. “Until I decide on that, though, I think you and Lysithea would be best paired off together. It wouldn’t hurt her to know how to handle a sword a little, either.”

“Why don’t _you_ teach her, then? You are the Professor, here.”

“ _Were_ the Professor here, you mean,” she corrected him idly. After rinsing the tips of her fingers in the pond water, she tore the last remaining bit of both her bread and her cheese in half and offered a portion to him. “Besides, that almost makes it sound like you think I’m better at swordplay than you are, Fraldarius.”

Felix accepted the offered food with a grateful nod, but he still smirked a bit at her words. “You wish.”

“I still managed to beat you in our last match,” Byleth reminded him lightly. “I believe I still have my boon to claim, too.”

“And you’re taking your sweet time about claiming it,” he sighed as he chewed a bit of the tough bread. “It can’t be that hard to make up your mind.”

  
“Maybe I just like seeing you sweat.”

“Who’s sweating?” Felix shrugged, finished the last of the food he had been given, and began to pull himself back to his feet. “Anyway, try not to stay out here in the rain too long; it won’t do anyone any good if you catch cold and I’d hate to lose a chance to claim a boon from my best sparring partner because she’s out of commission.”

The words weren’t _exactly_ the same and that time had been a clear and cool night instead of a rainy and warm morning, but the situation still stirred a mild sense of familiarity in Byleth. She found her lips shaping into the slight hint of a smile as she easily pictured Felix as he had been, then - younger and brash, a child on the verge of becoming a man but not yet comfortable in his skin. He had seemed so _embarrassed_ to be caught by her at the Goddess Tower and, though his words had been needlessly sharp, she really hadn’t been able to bring herself to be offended by them; it was hard to really be offended at an adorable puppy barking not as a warning of attack, but as a means of self-defense, after all.

“What’s that look about?” Felix muttered, now standing over her. “I don’t think I like that expression on you.”

“Nothing,” Byleth reassured him. She tipped her head back so that she could take a better look at him and, in the half-light of the early grey morning, she was a little astounded by both how much and how little had changed in him. “I think I know what I want for my boon, though.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm,” she nodded and, half-twisting on the dock, she tucked her legs under her body as she reached one hand toward him. “Walk me back to my room?”

He blinked, clearly not expecting something that uncomplicated to be her choice. “Is...that all?”

“I think so,” Byleth paused a moment, tapping the tips of her fingers against her leg as she thought, and then corrected herself. “Well, that and I want to hold your hand as we walk, too.”

Even in the faint morning light, the dusting of red spreading from his cheeks to his ears was quite obvious as Felix stared at her. He narrowed his sharp amber eyes to a squint as he tried to work out just what she was planning and his voice was a bit flat when he spoke again. “What.”

“Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you took off your glove, too.” She amended further. “I think that’s everything, though.”

Felix groaned in response to all of this and, in an agony of embarrassment, he did his best to hide at least the lower portion of his flushed face in the palm of his glove. “You can’t be serious.”

“Hm, what’s wrong with my request?” Byleth asked innocently. She continued to hold her hand, fingers slightly splayed, outstretched toward him as she tipped her head. “Are you afraid that we’ll be mistaken for lovers returning from an amorous meeting?”

“Oh, I see. So that’s it,” He sighed and shook his head. Even if a touch of red lingered on the pale skin of his cheeks, his former embarrassment was clearly being replaced by annoyance as he let the hand which had been covering his mouth fall idle to his side. “You’re making fun of me, now. You think I’ll accept your boon if you’re acting like that? Get serious.”

“I’m not making fun of you and I am being serious,” she countered as she wiggled her fingers slightly at him. “Besides, don’t you want to challenge yourself to see if you’re still more comfortable holding a sword rather than a woman’s hand?” 

Felix stared blandly at her wiggling fingertips for a moment, and Byleth thought it looked like he had to put a lot of effort into maintaining his annoyed frown and furrowed brow. “C’mon. Think of it as a training exercise, if you want. Another way you can surpass my technique and make me taste defeat.”

“You’re so annoying,” Felix muttered. Still, despite his grumbling, he did move to pull the glove from his left hand in a series of jerky and slightly annoyed movements and, once the skin was bare, he thrust his hand out toward her. All the while, he kept his face turned away so that Byleth had no way of really reading his reactions as she reached for him.

Still, she found that his skin felt pleasantly warm as she traced light fingertips over the fine bones along the back of his hand. She noted that his nails were kept more meticulously than she had imagined - not manicured, exactly, but clearly well taken care of - and his fingers seemed so long and so graceful; in another life and in another place, she could imagine them belonging to a musician instead of to one who was used only to fighting. Of course, the illusion was marred a bit by the scattering of bruises, cuts, and scars which littered his skin, but, to her, the contrast between grace and utility was quite beautiful.

Gently, Byleth turned his hand over in both of her own and, though she was curious about the lines and creases in his palm, she found herself distracted by the racing beat of his pulse at his wrist. She tipped her head slightly to one side as she firmly rubbed the calloused pad of her thumb over the soft, almost delicate feeling, skin. His pulse felt so strong and so fast under her caress; what would it sound like, if she pressed his wrist to her ear? Would she really be able to hear the strong, intimate beat of his heart, blended into a pleasant song with the rhythm of the falling rain? 

“I thought you wanted to _hold_ my hand, not molest it,” Felix interrupted, his voice sounding a little rough. “If you want me to walk you back to your room, we’d better get going, anyway. It’s not going to be long before everyone else starts to get up.”

She lifted a curious glance to him and, though his face was still firmly turned away from her, she thought she could see a distinct redness at the tip of his ears. “Are you really that afraid that someone will think we’re having a passionate affair, full of love and romance, if they saw us together?”

He scoffed in response and gestured a bit with the hand still caught up between both of her own. “Just hurry up. I know you don’t care about the rain, but I’m tired of being soaking wet.”

“Alright, alright,” Byleth sighed as she used his hand to help pull herself to her feet. Quickly, she gathered together her fishing pole and then bade her breakfast companions a fond farewell before turning her attention back to Felix - who was still fixedly looking at anything which wasn’t her. “Well, let’s get going, then.”

What followed was perhaps the most awkward walk of her twenty-something years on the planet. Not that it wasn’t pleasant holding his hand. No, Byleth rather liked how warm his palm felt pressed against her own, how his skin felt rough and smooth, hard and soft, in patches, how his fingers brushed against and slid through her own almost as if they were made to fit just so; it was just that Felix couldn’t seem to settle on how tightly or how loosely he should be holding her and so what started with him holding her hand as if it were some manner of dangerous beast ended with him squeezing it so that she found that she was beginning to lose a bit of feeling at the tips of her fingers as they walked up the short staircase leading to her room.

“There,” Felix declared as they came to a halt in front of her door. “Happy now?”

“Mm,” Byleth nodded as she turned toward him. Head tipped, she noted that his hood had fallen back somewhere along the way and that fine tendrils of his dark hair were clinging in wet whirls and strings to his forehead and cheek. She thought that he looked a bit like a drowned, semi-miserable kitten. Well, maybe not miserable, she silently amended as, to her, there did seem to be a vague hint of a satisfied smile at his lips. 

“Wait here a second?” She gave him no time to really object before she turned to disappear into her room and, when she returned a moment later, she held a large towel in her hands. This, she quickly tossed over his head, but she was stopped from actively helping him to dry his hair by the strong grip of both of his hands around both of her wrists.

“I can do it myself,” Felix muttered, but Byleth noted that he was just a bit slow, almost as if a bit reluctant, to let go of her wrists so that he could attend to his hair. Of course, he did eventually release her, but not before she could note the faint touch of red which had returned to his face and which he quickly tried to cover with the towel.

Byleth smiled a bit to herself, but she decided to have mercy and not draw further attention to his embarrassment. “Well, I don’t know if I can say that you surpass my technique in hand holding just yet, Fraldarius. I’d say your ranking sits at a solid C. Maybe a C plus, if I’m being generous.”

Felix responded with a snort from somewhere under the towel, but further words were lost in the sounds of awakening life overhead - voices raised in morning greetings, idle chatter, quick footsteps approaching the stairs at the far end of the yard. It was clear that Garreg Mach was awakening for another day and that her quiet and secret time was coming to a rapid end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I couldn't resist drawing from the well of the Goddess Tower event, after all.
> 
> Also, Felix has amazing hands. No, you cannot convince me otherwise.


	4. Fight Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected gift of noble finery inspires the women of Golden Deer (and their dear Professor) to have an impromptu fancy tea - and also inspires Felix to impulsively spend a boon.

"Man, you're gonna need to be more subtle if you really wanna keep whatever's going on between you and the professor quiet."

"Shut up. You don't know _that's_ who I'm looking at."

"Oh?" The tone of his voice rose as Sylvain leaned a bit closer to his childhood friend and Felix found himself briefly toying with the idea of grabbing one of the redhead's wrists and pulling him from his idiotic perch atop the low garden wall. "Who're you staring at, then?"

"No one." was the blunt reply as Felix turned his head to peer out through the open steel-wrought gate to their side. There was no one there, of course; all the girls were gathered at the tables in the middle of the garden for an impromptu tea party and many of the boys were helping with one thing or another in the kitchen or dining hall. It was just him and Sylvain in the small cut-out at the front of the garden as they had both been promptly and firmly told that they would _not_ be needed for kitchen duty.

"Uh- _huh,”_ Sylvain half-laughed, half-yawned as he stretched cat-like in the warm afternoon sun. "Still, can't really blame you. The supplies that the merchant sent the Alliance were nice enough, but that trunk of dresses he gifted to the professor..."

Felix made a vague sound of half-agreement as he turned his attention back to the gathering of young women at the center of the garden. The inventory of supplies, he knew, had been a planned exchange between the Alliance and the merchants who had been helped to escape the grasp of the Empire, but the large trunk of dresses - even Claude seemed to not expect that. He was still more than willing to grant Hilda permission to use the dresses how she wanted, even if he made it clear that eventually they'd likely have to be sold to help refill the army's coffers.

Once she had official permission from their leader, Hilda had greedily dug in. Meticulously, she had picked a bit of finery for each of the other girls, and then she had declared that they just _had_ to have a formal tea to celebrate and show off. So it came to be that the women of the Golden Deer planned a formal tea in the gardens of wartime Garreg Mach while the men toiled away in the kitchen and dining room in order to set the place for a celebratory feast to come later that evening.

"Kinda weird, though."

"Hm?"

"Well, the supplies were sent to the Alliance, in Claude's name."

"Right."

"And the dresses were sent just to the professor."

"So?"

"So why weren't the dresses just sent to the Alliance, too? And how does some random merchant know our lovely professor-turned-tactician by name?" Sylvain crossed his arms behind his head and leaned lazily back against the corner of the wall. "Think she's famous enough even merchants know her by name? Or, who knows, maybe it was from one of the merchants she saved in the battle who fell for her right there. The dresses could just be his way of getting into her--"

Felix wasn't listening. He wouldn't have cared, not much anyway, but especially not when the captivating sound of the professor's voice raised in an easy laugh drew his gaze directly to Byleth. 

He was too far away to catch any meaningful bits of their conversation; all that came was an occasional jumble of pleasant feminine voices or the rare peal of bright laughter, but he still enjoyed the way that laughter animated her features and caught in the bright jade of her eyes. Even if it was just for a moment, it made Byleth look so beautiful, so radiant, so _alive_ that Felix really couldn’t tear his eyes away and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep from staring, from letting his heavy gaze roam over her unguarded figure.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. In his time before the war, Felix had seen an unknowable number of noblewomen, both beautiful and not quite so, dressed in all imaginable types of finery; he had always thought that the poor women looked like cold fish wrapped a bit too tightly in gold-leafed and jewel-encrusted seaweed. Even the way the shiny cloth fit tightly to their curves and the way the corsets pushed their breasts forward into prominence couldn’t save them.

And then there was Byleth.

Byleth with her hair the color of early spring. Byleth with her creamy pale skin and her numerous well-earned scars. Byleth with jade eyes that could cut or salve. Byleth wrapped in tight gold that shone as warmly as the sun overhead and that cut so low over her expansive chest that it would likely only take a too-large breath or a too-sudden movement for the fabric to give away.

“Seriously, Felix. Keep leering like that and she’s gonna hit you.”

“I’m _not_ leering.”

“Right, whatever you wanna call it, girls don’t go for being looked at like that,” Sylvain warned jokingly. Idly, he crossed one ankle over the knee of his other leg as he glanced toward the middle of the garden. 

“I’m not--”

“I thought you hated stuff like that, anyway - noble finery and whatever. Too hard to fight in and too impractical, right?”

“Right.” Felix agreed. He managed to finally tear his gaze from his once-professor so he could raise it to glance at the childhood friend perched behind him and so he missed it as the girls began to clear away the remains of their tea party. “What of it?”

“Nothing,” Sylvain shrugged, then grinned and narrowed his eyes. “Or maybe _that’s_ why you like it so much on her.”

“What?”

“Maybe you’re hoping you can goad her into one of your little duels while she’s wearing that...”

“Sylvain--”

“...knowing that if she tried to swing her sword or do much of anything…”

“You really are such an id--”

“...that delicate fabric would tear and she’d be left vulnerable for…”

“Who’d be left vulnerable for what?” Hilda’s cheerful voice cut quite effectively through the speculative banter and she blinked curiously, first at Felix and then at Sylvain. “I dunno what you two are planning, but it sounds way too creepy.”

“Sylvain’s being creepy? What a surprise,” Lysithea muttered as she shifted the basket of leftover treats held in her arms. “Weird for Felix, though.”

“We don’t know that they were being weird,” Byleth shook her head as she shot the two a curious glance, but she seemed to decide to lay the conversation to rest. “Anyway, c’mon, you two. You’re going to help us put all this stuff back in storage.”

“Not you, Professor,” Leonie scolded as she grabbed the bundle of half-folded tablecloths from the other woman’s arms. “You’re going back to your room to lay down.”

“Leonie, I told you that I’m fine. I was _joking_ about it being too hard to--”

“She is right, though,” Marianne agreed quietly. “You need to rest.”

“Really, having a tea party isn’t that tiring,” Byleth began to protest, but her words were cut short when Sylvain casually draped an arm over her shoulders. She turned a furrowed brow and slightly curious glance to the redhead in response, but he played as oblivious as ever.

“It’s okay, Professor. I’ll be more than glad to help these lovely ladies with their chores. Why not let Felix here escort you back to your room?” Sylvain grinned widely and, in a surprisingly fluid gesture, he used his light grasp on her shoulders to spin Byleth directly toward the dark-haired swordsman in question.

And it turned out to be truly quite fortunate that both Felix and Byleth were well-trained as, once again, Felix hadn’t been listening to the conversation and Byleth still wasn’t entirely used to how the dress confined and limited her movement. She did her best to soften the blow by trying to lessen her momentum - and she was so glad Sylvain hadn’t tried to spin her harder - but still she couldn’t entirely prevent a chest-to-chest collision with Felix.

Felix, whose only warning that he was about to have an armful of his once-professor was the collision of her body with his own, grunted in surprise at the sudden impact, but he instinctively reached his hands to grasp at her shoulder and hip to steady her as he took his own half-step back. His back collided, then, with the low wall behind him and he grumbled in irritation.

His brief irritation gave way to quite something else, however, when he noted the pleasant warmth of the body temporarily pressed against his own. He noted, too, that the faint scent of the tea she had been drinking lingered about her and that the slight spice of it mixed nicely with the floral scent of her hair. And then there was the heavy, prominent press of her soft breasts against his chest.

“Whoa, my bad, Professor. I didn’t think you’d be _that_ off-balance.”

Unsurprisingly, it was Sylvain’s voice that pulled Felix back to the reality of the moment and which made him all too aware of the fact that he was not only standing in the middle of the public garden with Byleth pressed against him but that he was standing in the middle of the public garden with Byleth pressed against him while half of the Golden Deer class looked on. He could feel a heat along his cheeks and at the tips of his ears and he knew that he must be flushed as red as a berry - but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to move his hands from her shoulders nor could he encourage her to step back.

That was alright, though.

Byleth, after a moment, managed to gather herself and, as soon as she stepped back from him, Felix was acutely aware of how much he missed the heat and press of her against his chest. His hands itched in both the best and the worst way with the desire to reach out for her again, but he instead let them fall idle to his sides. He could only pray to whatever benevolent goddess may-or-may-not be out there that her effects on him weren’t as blindingly obvious as they felt.

“Oh, this _is_ your first time wearing a dress like this, huh?” Hilda mused as she tipped her head. “I guess it does kinda take a bit to get used to it…”

“I picked it up right away,” Leonie pointed out, even as she put a light hand on Byleth’s back to help steady the other girl. “It’s no big deal.”

“Yes, it’s my first time and no there really isn't anything to get used to,” Byleth muttered under her breath. For the briefest of moments, her irritation was easy to read in the set of her jaw and the narrowing of her eyes, but there was no trace of any of it as she lifted her head to more directly address the others. “Okay, I think that’s enough fun for now. Let’s clean all this up before we have to start getting changed for the feast.”

“Maybe it is best if you just go back,” Marianne interjected gently. “It won’t take us long to clean this up on our own and we--”

“We don’t need you breaking the teapots and mugs because you can’t walk properly.” Lysithea finished frankly, but not unkindly. “Just go.”

Even Felix could easily see that Byleth wanted, and fully intended, to argue the point further and, normally, he wouldn’t care much if they wanted to stand and argue in the garden until everything around them turned to dust; this particular afternoon, however, he was a bit too wound in a few too many ways to be willing and so he turned to walk toward the still open iron gate. “Let’s go. I’ll walk back with you.”

Felix glanced from the corner of his eye to Byleth as she fell into step at his side, but he waited until the both of them were about halfway across the green lawn in front of the building where classes were once held before he spoke. “I can help you, you know.”

“Help with what?”

The inspiration, as shameful as it was, _had_ come from Sylvain’s earlier childish blathering, but Felix wouldn’t mean it with the lewd intent his friend had put forth. No, it wasn’t because he wanted to see how much, or how little, stress the dress could take; more, it was because it presented a chance where he could finally possibly be better at something than his teacher and rival.

The fact that the dress was fetching and that the movement of her strong, lithe body in its confines fascinated him clearly had nothing to do with anything.

“You’re frustrated because you can’t move properly in that ridiculous thing, right?”

“Mn.”

“I’m taking that as a yes. So duel me in that and I’ll--”

“Felix, I can’t.” 

“Since when do _you_ give up that easily?”

Byleth huffed a frustrated sigh as she came to an abrupt stop and Felix, likewise, stopped and turned to face her. He arched a questioning eyebrow at her as he awaited her answer, but she soon shook her head. “Look, it’s easier if I just show you. I know you’re supposed to be walking me back to my room, but let’s stop at the training grounds first, okay?”

“Fine. Show me, then.”

It was only a very short walk to the very familiar building where the pair spent so much of their time, and Felix found it something of a comforting routine - hearing the soft slam of the double doors as they closed out the chaos and frustration of the world outside, drawing that first deep breath of air heavy with all the battles and competitions which had come before, feeling the familiar weight of the training sword in his hand as he chose his favorite from the rack.

And Byleth beside him, doing exactly the same.

Felix gestured for her to go ahead and begin her usual warm up routine, but instead of joining in as he normally would, he took up a position leaning against one of the large stone pillars surrounding the open floor. He watched idly, arms crossed loosely over his chest, as Byleth performed an opening set of very basic swings, but even the most basic maneuvers - ones she likely should have been able to do in her sleep- came across as truncated and sloppy.

“You’re worrying about the dress too much.”

“Yes, I kind of have to worry about it.”

“No, you don’t. You can--”

“Felix, I’m pretty sure you heard Claude say that he wanted to be able to resell these dresses in a few weeks to recoup costs.” Byleth paused in her clumsy swings and crossed her arms under her chest. “I know _I_ don’t have the gold to repay him if something happens to this one so I have to be careful.”

She exhaled a long sigh and, idly tapping the blunted edge of her practice sword against her leg, she walked over toward him. “Listen, I know you’re trying to help and I do appreciate it, but--”

“I’ve decided on my boon.”

Now only a few steps away from him, Byleth paused and blinked in open surprise. “Wh-what?”

“My boon. I’ve decided.”

“Oh?”

Now, Felix thought it looked like Byleth was trying rather hard not to laugh, but he decided to soldier on, regardless. There were two options he had been struggling to decide between, but, in this moment, only one came to his lips. “Fight me.”

“Felix, I just said…”

He shook his head, frustrated. “Not here and not now. I suppose it’s actually two parts together, but I want to train with you in fine dress and then hold a true duel once we’re both proficient.”

“Both of us in fine dress, hm?”

“Well, _you_ in a dress. I suppose I’ll see if I can find some formal wear somewhere around the grounds.”

“Pity,” Byleth sighed exaggeratedly. “I bet you have the legs to make it work.”

Felix glared and Byleth tipped her head innocently, cutting her eyes a bit to the side. The intoxicating combination of her innocent expression, the graceful fall of her soft hair, and the alluring posture of her body made him lose track of the conversation for a moment and he was only really brought back to the matter at hand when she cleared her throat softly.

“Buy a cheap noble style dress so you don’t have to worry about tearing or ruining it,” Felix continued after a moment. “Learning to sew might not be a bad idea, either.”

“I know how to sew. I learned when I was a kid.”

“ _Jeralt_ taught you how to sew?”

“Mm,” Byleth shook her head slightly. “Not him. Someone else. It doesn’t really matter right now.”

“True enough,” Felix agreed, even if some part of him was slightly annoyed that she could still be so evasive about some things. “Anyway, go find a dress the next time you have free time and we can start.”

“You aren’t going to help me pick it out?”

“No. I don’t care what it looks like. It just needs to fit you like that one, so you have to learn to work around it,” He paused and coughed slightly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Well, maybe not _exactly_ like that.”

“Hm,” Byleth tipped her head at him again, but seemed to decide against teasing him further. “Why’re you so set on teaching me to fight in fancy dress, anyway? I’m a mercenary -- or a tactician or whatever title they gave me. It’s not something I need to know.”

“You said it yourself: you’re a mercenary, you never know what you might someday need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was bound to happen, but I guess this really IS going to be something of a series - just...one that's all out of order. I really hope it isn't too weird or confusing to have it jump around a bit, but since it isn't a linear story (aside from following the basic story beats of the game) it probably won't be too bad? 
> 
> Also, we're Golden Deer! So there's that! (It was going to be that or BL, anyway. Maybe SS but who do you recruit, then?)
> 
> No real lewd this time, and probably not for the next few I have in mind. If that's good bad or other, I guess I'll see how it goes.


	5. Let Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth finds a bit of inspiration in the back of Anna's shop and uses a boon for a somewhat selfish desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sexual content advisory already. This chapter has adult content (as in pretty explicit depiction of a sexual scene) so, as always, skip over it if you're underage or simply don't much like that kind of thing.

  
  
  
  
It was the first clear and warm night Garreg Mach had seen in more than two weeks. This meant that many of the once-students, as well as many of the new recruits to the cause, were taking full advantage - using the warm breeze, using the faint scent of flowers, new growth, and new life, using the star dusted sky stretching to infinity overhead to forget about the war, even if just for a moment.  
  
It also meant that it was the perfect time for Byleth to claim her first hard-won boon - and she had been _preparing_ for this.  
  
“Tch. I thought you were more mature than this.”  
  
“More mature than what?” Byleth asked with a melodic laugh caught somewhere in her throat. She crossed her arms loosely over the front of her simple black shirt and tipped her head curiously, almost innocently, at the clearly irritated swordsman lingering by the door to her room.  
  
At first, Felix only responded with a dismissive snort and a surprisingly graceful wave of his arm, but, after a moment, he seemed to find more to say. “More mature than asking for something that even Sylvain would think is a bit much.”  
  
Now, Byleth couldn’t keep the laugh in her throat and so she gave it to the room as she took in the sight before her.  
  
Felix, her swordsman and newfound lover, stood a bit awkwardly just inside the wooden frame of the door. His expression bore a familiar scowl, furrowing his brow and turning down the corner of his lips, but the effect was lessened by the creep of red along his sharp cheekbones. His leanly muscled arms, encased in a light fabric which only enhanced the bewitching litheness of his every gesture, crossed sullenly over his near-bare chest - though the stiff white cuffs, larger than he was used to, scratched unpleasantly against his skin.  
  
With a huffed sigh, Felix let one arm fall idle to his side while the hand of the other rested impatiently on the rise of his hip. His amber gaze, narrow and annoyed and embarrassed all at once, came to rest on Byleth and she did find herself caught in a moment of pity - but only a moment.  
  
“It’s really not that bad,” she soothed as she ventured a few steps closer. Head tipped and expression pensive, she had to amend that - it really wasn’t that bad _at all_.  
  
She so rarely had a chance to see Felix in anything but his usual war clothes - or simply _out_ of his war clothes, as pleasant as that always was - that the simple novelty of a change of clothes appealed to her.  
  
And then she had found that set at the back of Anna’s shop.  
  
“So why can’t you stop laughing?” He demanded stridently - or what he seemed to hope sounded strident. Emotions were never easy for the swordsman, much like they were never easy for her, so all that really came across was embarrassed annoyance - at least until he sighed and dipped his chin.  
  
A dark curtain of his fine, soft hair fell to blessedly hide his face and expression as he buried his chin into the stiff white collar and ridiculous teal bow tie at his throat and Byleth had to strain a bit to catch his next words. “I look absolutely ridiculous and I can’t even begin to guess why this, of all things, was your choice for a prize.”  
  
Now it was Byleth’s turn to pause, both in movement and in speech, as she fought not to groan in frustration.  
  
There were words, more words than she even knew, to describe how handsome she found the dark-haired swordsman. There were words, so many words, to describe how attracted she was to him - so much so that it was almost embarrassing. There were words, words not even in her emotional vocabulary, for the tangled mess of feelings she held for him.  
  
But there were also problems with all of those words.  
  
There was the very basic problem that Byleth didn’t like dwelling on such thoughts and emotions when the path into the future ahead was still so unclear and dangerous, but there was also the basic problem that Felix never understood nor accepted it when she tried to express any of those thoughts to him - at least when she expressed those thoughts verbally.  
  
“I chose this as my prize because I thought it would look amazing on you,” she answered simply. She ignored the snort that came in response to her words; instead, she wrapped one hand loosely around his wrist, just above where the stiff cuff gave way to smooth, soft material, and tugged.  
  
Surprisingly, Felix trailed after Byleth quite willingly as she made her way deeper into the room - and just a bit closer to her bed. Once she was satisfied that they were far enough from the door not to be heard by any casual passers-by, she turned to face him again.  
  
“It does, you know,” she continued casually. She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet so that she could press a small yet warm kiss onto the corner of his mouth and her fingers traced the now so familiar curve of his cheek. Her calloused thumb skimmed lightly over the still flushed skin of his cheekbone while the rest of her hand buried itself in the sleek smoothness of his lightly bound hair - all the while avoiding the band which held the admittedly a bit ridiculous rabbit ears to his head.  
  
“Liar,” he groused in reply, but his words lacked the bite from earlier. “I look deranged. Like I should be either locked in an attic or one of the cheap options at a bro—“   
  
His words cut short, then, in favor of a rather sharp intake of breath as Byleth pressed a second quick, sharp nip against the skin revealed by his now loosely undone collar.  
  
“You look amazing. Sexy. Irresistible.”  
  
Byleth trailed the words as easily as she trailed the too light, too teasing bites over his collarbone and chest. Normally, it was she who bore the most marks after a private sparring such as this, but this time...  
  
“Stop,” was the word on his lips, but the way his hands shifted to grip tightly at her shoulder and arm gave away his true meaning. When he moved to continue speaking, he was clearly attempting to put on an air of being put out by all of this, but the racing of his heart as felt by the warm lips pressed against his skin gave him away. “If you want me that badly, you just have to say something. Why go to all this idiotic trouble?”  
  
“Hmmm.” Byleth mused. Her exploring mouth paused over his skin and, when she spoke again, both lips and breath teased over him. “I guess because I never get to really see you like this.”  
  
“What are you saying? You see this every time we —“  
  
“Not what I mean,” she deadpanned flatly. Idly, her fingers twisted in the too-thin straps which held the tiny bit of cloth, really not much more than would be needed for a lady’s kerchief, over his hips and groin.  
  
“So it is just about seeing me look like an—“  
  
Maybe it was about wanting to see him vulnerable. Maybe it was about wanting to see if he really trusted her enough for this. Maybe it really was just a case of being too horny for her own good - either way, she was getting a little tired of arguing in circles with him and so she fell back easily to using actions instead.  
  
Byleth leaned her body invitingly against Felix and seized his lips in a searing kiss - an effective means of silencing his words if not his doubts. Still, when she felt his hands settle firmly at her hips, she drew back enough just enough to make a small noise of admonishment at the back of her throat.  
  
“Mm-mmn,” she murmured coyly as she shifted her hands to grip at his wrists. “This is my reward, not yours.”  
  
‘“Well, you didn’t say anything about not being able to touch you.”  
  
“It was implied?”  
  
“You’re pathetic and a liar,” Felix snorted. He paused for a moment and then continued a bit hurriedly. “Though if you ever manage another win...”  
  
Byleth cocked an eyebrow at this brief and, honestly, quite interesting peek into the swordsman’s tastes, but she merely filed it away for later - for next time.  
  
Instead, she scraped her teeth in a half-bite against the pulse point in his neck - tasting the salt and sweat of him, feeling the racing beat against her lips as she half-murmured, “Then let me.”  
  
“Let you what?” Felix answered in a low whisper. His head tipped back in order to grant her access to more of his skin, but she seemed quite content to nibble at his pulse a little longer. “Stop being so damned difficult.”  
  
She just barely managed to suppress a snort in response to that; since when was he someone to lecture about being difficult, anyway?  
  
Instead of bothering to reply to absurd statement, she drew far enough back from him to meet his heavy gaze and, almost shyly, she answered. “Let me take care of you, for once. Just....enjoy this instead of turning it into a race to see who can please the other first.”  
  
‘“You never complained about that before. Besides, you aren’t so blind that you can’t see that I—“  
  
Again, Byleth halted the flow of his words - both by occupying his mouth with her own and by nimbly slipping deft fingers below the waistband of his all-too-brief smallclothes. Her warm fingers wrapped firmly around the hardness she found there and she delighted in the small groan she felt reverberate into her mouth. The pace she set for him was neither idle nor punishing - just enough to keep him gasping and eager as she released his lips and stepped slightly back.  
  
“Thought you said this wasn’t a race....”  
  
“It isn’t,” she agreed easily as she settled to sit at the edge of her bed. Her hand continued to stroke him, but she quickly decided that this would be so much better if he was free from those briefs - as attractive as they did look on him.  
  
Byleth shifted her hand away from its work of teasing him so that she more easily remove one of the few barriers between her and his bare skin and she found that she couldn’t quite keep from smirking a bit at the disappointed groan Felix just barely failed to swallow.  
  
“So impatient,” she chided teasingly as she worked the briefs along his legs and to the floor. These movements naturally brought her face closer to him and so she easily chose to take advantage, pressing her lips and scraping her teeth over the ridge of his hip as she lazily worked her way back to the source of his need.  
  
‘“Byleth—“  
  
“Mm?” She half-questioned in response, but Felix seemed to be at a loss for a reply - perhaps because she had finally, much to his satisfaction, wrapped the warm softness of her lips around his eager cock.  
  
Once she had begun, Byleth worked in earnest - no longer given to teasing, she bobbed her head steadily over him and her tongue fondly traced the ridges and veins which pleased her so well when he was deep inside her. She half-hummed in approval when she felt his strong hands tangle into her hair - for now just holding onto her, no doubt ready to adjust the pace when it became necessary - and he moaned thickly in appreciation for the added stimulation this caused.  
  
She treasured it when she heard Felix call her name in a breathy chain of exhales and she squeezed his hips a bit more tightly with her fingertips as she took and held him as deeply in her as she could manage. Under her hands, she could feel his body begin to tense, and so she was quite a bit surprised when he suddenly pulled away, dislodging himself from her throat.  
  
“Felix?” She began to ask him what was wrong, why he had chosen to pull away from her, but her words were gone when she found herself unexpectedly pressed back onto the bed. She was suddenly caught between the softness of her mattress and the firmness of her swordsman, and she could only gasp against the heat of his mouth as Felix kissed her hotly, kissed her desperately. Her gasps changed to a light laugh as she heard him half-mutter a foul curse against the complex clothes she wore - despite the fact that she only had on a simple shirt and shorts. And those tights.  
  
“I thought you liked my tights.”  
  
“Not when the goddess-cursed things are keeping me from fucking you.”  
  
“Felix, don’t. Anna said she wouldn’t be able to get a replacement until—“  
  
And then her words lost in the now too-familiar sound of the inner thigh portion of her tights straining and then tearing under his hands.  
  
 _”Felix,”_ Byleth growled his name in rebuke and bit at his shoulder in frustration, but she knew that her irritation with him couldn’t last - especially not when his fingers were dipping so pleasantly into her already soaked core. Ultimately, she surrendered her annoyance in favor of the pleasure he was offering. She reached for him and tangled her arms around his shoulders, drawing him down closer so she could again claim his lips - but the kiss lasted only a moment before she found herself gasping out his name.  
  
“Felix, please,” she whispered against his ear. Byleth let her teeth rake against the flesh of his neck as she struggled to find her breath and her voice, but the steady movement of his fingers made her feel so pleasantly weak.  
  
“Hm? So tell me what you want,” he answered in a gruff rumble against her shoulder.  
  
Byleth groaned, half in pleasure and half in annoyance with him. If she had the breath, she would point out that it was blindingly obvious what she wanted, but the movement of his fingers as he worked them steadily in and out of her was quickly becoming too much to allow her to continue to be stubborn.  
  
“You,” she finally moaned outright - though the desperate tone was brought on as much by the quick flick of his thumb over her clit as it was by anything else. “Stars above and all the space between, if you don’t replace that hand of yours with something a bit more substantial and soon—“  
  
Felix responded to that mild bit of threat with a low chuckle, but he did have sense enough to withdraw his hand.  
  
Byleth sighed at the loss, but any regret was quickly replaced with eagerness when she felt the press of his cock against her. With a breathy exhale of his name, she raised her hips to eagerly accept him and she used her ankles crossed at the small of his back to help guide him fully into her. Once she felt that he was fully seated, she took a moment to meet his eyes, to brush the now loose hair from his face, to once again feel just a bit astounded - and nervous and terrified and grateful and so many other tangled together things - that their tumultuous relationship had led them to this.  
  
And then Felix began to move in earnest and Byleth honestly couldn’t focus on much of anything aside from just how good he felt inside her.  
  
She felt his strong fingers dig deeply into the soft flesh of her hips - knowing that there would probably be marks in the morning and not much caring - and she responded by lightly raking her nails over the finely muscled expanse of his back. She drank in appreciatively the choked moans which came in response and she answered them with a loose, breathy chant of his name. She knew that she was coming so close to being undone by him, but, this time, she had meant it when she had said that she didn’t want it to be a race.  
  
‘Felix,” Byleth gasped his name and, when he drew back to finally meet her gaze, she did her best to hold him there. She did, after all, so love the way his amber eyes darkened with his desire, the way he seemed to drink in every small change of her expression, the way his pleasure seemed to only be enhanced by her own. “I-I’m going to...to come. I want...want you to...”  
  
She was pleased to see that he seemed to understand her pleasure-garbled mess of a plea and she was even more pleased when the peak and release of her climax was accompanied by the spreading warmth of his spilt seed. Byleth clung to him strongly as they both slowly unwound from their ecstasy and she held him warmly against her chest once he collapsed forward against her.  
  
“So, all that trouble and annoyance for something we would’ve done anyway,”  
  
Byleth swatted lightly at him in a lazy response and she rolled her eyes at the deep rumble of his chuckle against her skin. “I know. I enjoyed it, too. I just hope that cute outfit didn’t get ruined like my tights.”  
  
“Byleth...”  
  
“You know, thinking about it, there was another set like that at the shop. I wonder if Sylvain...”  
  
‘’Byleth...”  
  
This time, she could clearly hear the annoyed warning in his tone, but she couldn’t quite hide her answering laugh. It was an empty threat, anyway - who wanted or needed to know about their activities?  
  
Byleth found herself feeling as light and as relaxed as she ever could these days and so she was happy to indulge herself by pressing a lazy, fuzzy kiss against the beautiful mess of her swordsman’s silken hair. “So about the boon for our next sparring match...”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“I’m really going to regret putting you through all this, aren’t I?”  
  
“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself, tactician.”


	6. (Don't) Fight Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix gets tired of arguing with Byleth and so he decides to demonstrate for her a new skill he's recently learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm....not entirely sure it warrants an outright warning, but there's very very light mention of scars, blood, and a more field-medic way of treating wounds in this chapter. It's absolutely not anything super graphic or strange but it's there so if that's something sensitive for you, please be aware.

Felix knew exactly where to find her.

After every battle, it was the same routine, after all. No matter how large or how small the skirmish - once everything had settled, once the wounded were attended to, once the temporary encampment was set, once the plans for a safe return to Garreg Mach were made, once the dispatches announcing their victory were sent ahead; only then would Byleth, their once-professor and now-tactician, sneak away so that she could attend to herself.

The first time Felix had realized the reason why Byleth sought privacy after every battle, he had been upset and, quite predictably, he had overreacted; they two had quarreled for nearly half of a month afterward and peace had only come when Felix forced himself to admit that, while he didn’t like her reasons in the slightest, Byleth was still too stubborn for him to change - on some things, at the very least.

So, once the resting army settled into evening routine, the swordsman ventured out past the first of the evening’s watchmen - tonight, first watch looked to be up to Raphael and Ignatz which likely meant that there would be few problems - to seek out his sparring partner in the sparse grove of fruit trees situated near a softly babbling stream.

As he had expected, Byleth sat quietly at the side of the stream. Her cloak, armor, and shirt had all been discarded into a small pile at her side and her gauntlets leaned lightly against the side of her heavily rummaged-through rucksack. A variety of bandages, gauzes, and pieces of fabric sat by her left knee and against the other leaned an open flask of what he knew to be a rather foul variety of whiskey. Though her bare back was turned to him, Felix could easily tell by the movement of her arms and shoulders that she was busily working at mending a new injury on her torso and so he idly plucked a few pieces of fruit from one of the trees before sitting a pace or so behind her.

“Marianne wanted me to find you,” Felix informed her from around a mouthful of apple. “She said she wanted to have a look at your wounds when you have a minute to spare.”

“I hope you told her that isn’t necessary,” Byleth responded, her voice sounding a bit tight to his ears. “Besides, she’s done enough already. She should rest before we get moving again tomorrow.”

“I told her it was a waste, but she insisted.” He paused, weighed the wiseness of having this fight _again_ , and then decided to barrel forward regardless. “She isn’t wrong, you know. You can’t be afraid of healers forever.”

“I’m not _afraid_ of healers, Felix,” Byleth sighed and reached for the flask sitting against her knee. Even from behind her, he could mark the heavy wince crossing through her body as she swallowed a mouthful and wiped her lips. “It’s just a waste of their energy when this works more than well enough.”

“ _This_ isn’t a waste of _your_ energy, though,” he muttered as he tossed the core of his apple to the side. With a sigh, he propped his elbow on one of his thighs and leaned his chin against the palm of his hand. “It’s not like you’re goddess-blessed and know faith magic of your own.”

Her tone wasn’t hard to read as she muttered something in response, but the words were meaningless, obscured as they were by the bit of thread caught between her teeth. Still, her lack of enthusiasm for continuing this particular conversation was fairly obvious as she used a section of gauze to dab a bit of the whiskey over her left forearm and then began to work at a deep cut lying there.

“Just because it’s how your father always did things doesn’t mean it has to be how you do things. You’re smart enough to know that traditions don’t always have to be followed and especially not to hold up the whims of the dead. Besides, I sincerely doubt that Jeralt would even want you to have to tend to yourself like this when there are better options,” Felix continued to lecture and, as expected, she continued to ignore him. Eventually, he grew tired of speaking to the equivalent of a brick wall and so he turned his attention to the topography of her moonlit back. 

Though he did rather like watching how the muscles moved smoothly under the surface, Felix soon found himself distracted by the network of scars etched across the top of her skin. The vast majority of them, he knew from asking, held no particular story any more than most of his own scars did - this one was earned when I was too slow to parry, this one when I was sloppy and distracted, this one when I was young and just learning, this other when I made a foolish mistake; there were only two whose origins remained as a mystery to him - a small and very old seeming scar at the center of her chest and a quite long one over her back.

It was this one on her back which he very lightly began to trace with the very tip of a glove-clad finger. He started where it did, at the nape of her neck, and he followed it parallel along her spine before tracing the sharp curve out toward her ribs. He noted distractedly that Byleth stiffened and straightened her back and shoulders at his touch, but he didn’t raise his attention to her until a touch over her ribs forced a very un-Ashen Demon-like squeak from between her lips. 

Felix smugly met the glare which Byleth shot him over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow in silent challenge; if she wished to ignore the sense he was trying to talk into her, then he’d just find other ways of getting her attention. 

What followed seemed, to him, to all happen in the matter of a moment - the jade eye facing him narrowed dangerously and then, almost before he could take in or appreciate exactly what was happening, Felix found himself sprawled on his back in the hard dirt and sparse grass with a lightly wounded and mildly intoxicated mercenary hovering over him.

He remained quite still, curious to see what would happen next, and Byleth paused for just a moment before settling herself comfortably over his hips. He offered no resistance as she maintained a tight grip on his wrists, holding his hands firmly over his head, though he did wrinkle his nose slightly when her mint green hair tickled over his face as she leaned in over him. He found her breath to be pleasantly warm, though heavy with the scent of the alcohol she’d just been drinking, as it puffed against his cheek and neck.

“If you’re bored enough to be picking that same fight with me yet again, even after I explained why you’re wrong, then I think I can find something better for you to do,” Byleth offered. She spoke directly against his ear and Felix found himself almost too distracted by the warm brush of her breath and lips to immediately be able to answer. 

“Oh?” He managed in a half-exhale, but he quickly decided he wasn’t feeling patient enough to simply wait for her answer. Instead, Felix took advantage of the momentarily awkward positioning of her body to knock her further off-balance by simultaneously pushing his hips upward and twisting his torso to the side. Predictably, Byleth slid from over him and, from there, it was fairly easy for Felix to reverse things so that he was now comfortably positioned over her. 

“Sorry, but it doesn’t look like you’re really in a position to make demands,” he observed casually. He moved his face closer to her own, now only a breath away from her slightly parted lips, and spoke again. “Besides, I was the last victor in our match. That means I get to set the rules.”

Further conversation of rules and matches didn’t hold much interest for either of them, at the immediate moment, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if it did; both of them snapped to immediate attention and both heads turned quickly in the direction of the new sound of heavy boots on just the other side of the line of trees. 

“And that would have to be Raphael,” Byleth sighed, then half-laughed under her breath. “I knew I should’ve put someone like Hilda on patrol. She’d never come out this far.”

Felix grunted in reply as he let his head loll forward to rest against her neck and shoulder. There was a small part of himself - or, really, a not quite so small part of himself - that wanted to tell her to ignore the patrolling idiot and to just focus on him, but his better sense did eventually assert itself. 

“C’mon, Felix. Let me up,” she requested as she reached up to affectionately ruffle his slightly undone hair. “I have to finish cleaning myself up, anyway.”

“You really don’t have to,” Felix objected. He allowed his reluctance to move from over her to be quite obvious as he disentangled slowly and, once he had regained his feet, he turned to offer her a hand up - only to find himself fixed under a narrow-eyed glare.

For a moment, Byleth just glared faintly at his hand, but she soon turned her annoyed expression to meet his eyes. “Let’s--let’s just not have this argument again, okay? I’m really not in the mood to have to fight you about it, again, tonight.”

“Then don’t fight me about it,” Felix responded as if it were simply the most common-sense solution in the world, but her expression told him that she obviously didn’t see it that way. Clearly, if he really wanted to convince her, then he’d have to both be more direct and also possibly reveal something he had quite wanted to keep for himself just a little while longer. “Look, I get that you’re set in your ways and you don’t want to change, but I--” 

He paused a moment and huffed a slightly frustrated sigh before deciding to try an entirely new tactic. “Alright, fine. Since my earlier attempt to claim a reward was ruined by a case of bad timing, I’ll go for something else.”

Her expression didn’t warm any in light of his new announcement, but Byleth did cock a curious eyebrow at him as she finally took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. His hand she kept a light grip on as she walked back over to where she had left her cloak and, after wrapping this around her bare shoulders, she reached to claim one of the apples which he had picked earlier. “Go on.”

Felix nodded, took a moment to steel himself, and then gestured for her to sit as she had been when he came across her earlier. Once she had done so, he sat in front of her and reached for the arm which wasn’t currently holding onto her apple. “Two things: don’t interrupt me or distract me and don’t be surprised if none of this actually works.”

He ignored the questions burning in the depths of her eyes; instead, Felix turned the full force of his attention to the arm held loosely in his grasp. He noted that Byleth had already attended to and patched the worst of the injuries which marred the smooth skin of the underside of her arm, but he also noticed that a few of the deeper cuts had reopened in the course of their earlier wrestling; it was these on which he decided to focus and, closing his eyes, he reached for the small spring of will which he had just recently learned to feel in the depth of his body. 

This strength, still small and weak for all his inexperience with it, responded slowly to his call, but Felix managed to manipulate it, drawing it out and bringing it forward. He imagined it breaking forward, washing over her injured skin in a refreshing wave, and so it went, healing over the cuts not entirely to perfection, but enough that they’d at least not freely bleed nor bother her any longer.

“ _Felix_ …” 

The way Byleth breathed his name in response to his small effort sent a mixed wave of pleasure and embarrassment through him and Felix could feel his face grow hot as he exhaled a long breath. He released his tenuous grasp on that new and faint power, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to lift his eyes to assess her response; so, instead, he gently traced the rough tip of his leather-clad finger down the inside of her arm, from the crook of her elbow to the center of her palm.

“You--I...I really can’t believe you’d go to all that trouble--” Byleth seemed to be having a bit of trouble gathering her own thoughts on the matter, but her meaning was clear enough when she curled her fingers in against her own palm, catching his up in a light grip. “It really means that much to you, doesn’t it.”

“It does,” he answered simply, but then bristled a bit in a fashion so typical to himself. “Don’t think I did this just to win an argument or simply to impress you, though. I’d been thinking about learning both sides of magic for a while and since you had me training with Lysithea, anyway…”

“I knew having the two of you work together would be a good idea, but I never would have thought...” She did nothing to disguise her pleased astonishment at the demonstration of his new skill and Felix felt his face grow warmer still as she sketched a light, apple-scented kiss against the corner of his lips. “Thank you, Felix. Sincerely, thank you.”

“So that means you’re going to stop running off to do this to yourself, right?”

“Mm, maybe,” Byleth teased as she leaned in to rest her forehead against his own. “I mean, as much as I hate wasting the energy and time of any of the healers, I’d especially hate to waste yours.”

“Speaking of--” She paused and reached to gently brush back a bit of his hair, but the tone of her voice took on the same notes as those she once used all those years ago when she lectured before the entire class. “That was an impressive show of skill, but you’re probably not used to expending that kind of energy in that sort of burst. You should probably go back and lie down for the night.”

“Don’t act like a professor when that isn’t your job any more,” Felix groused in response. “I’m fully capa--” 

Betrayed by his own body, he found his words swallowed in a wide yawn and he narrowed his amber eyes into sharp glare at her responding smug grin. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that Felix won't make a good mage. I know his stats don't quite go that way (at least, they never did in any of my playthroughs) but since he has a budding talent in reason and no penalty nor benefit in faith it seemed an interesting thing to have him do. 
> 
> Further, Raph absolutely knew what they were up to and was purposely walking heavily/loudly so they'd hear him and not be embarrassed.


	7. Call Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A would-be King, Margrave, Duke, and Archbishop walk into a bar...

The mood within the ranks of the Alliance were higher than they had been in a long while.

The new addition of the Hero of Daphnel to their ranks, the promise of more troops and supplies, the light of hope that Count Gloucester could soon be turned to their side and that he could help them to land a decisive blow against the Empire - all of this lent a much needed boost to the previously faltering mood of Garreg Mach and the slight suggestion that Lady Rhea could still be found and rescued brightened the outlook of even those who cared not for talk of heroes and supplies. 

Still, Byleth and Claude - and often Lorenz and Judith and a rotating list of others - spent many long hours locked away within the confines of the Cardinal’s Room and, though they managed to lay out the beginnings of many sets of plans, nothing would truly be set to paper until Lorenz and Claude could both manage to find a way to agree on the best way to convince Count Gloucester to trust them; of course, getting the two to agree on something as simple as the color of the sky was nearly impossible, so the chance of getting them both to agree on something as important as the best way to secure a much-needed ally was seemingly beyond the reach of even the most patient and reasonable person.

It was at the end of a particularly argumentative session, one which seemed to last nearly the entire day and which ultimately yielded no results, that the idea of moving the strategy meeting to a nearby tavern was brought up. Naturally, Seteth and Lorenz immediately balked at the idea, while both Claude and Byleth seemed to find some wisdom in it. A final vote of those present confirmed that the location of the meeting would be immediately changed, even if the number present would be greatly diminished.

In the end, the entirety of the council ended up being just Claude and Byleth and the location changed from the small tavern in town to the run-down but unquestionably more comfortable Inn just inside the Abyss. The two had only just settled to a table when Claude nodded his head and drew Byleth’s attention toward a familiar pair just making their way inside.

“Huh, I didn’t realize so many knew about this place.”

“I didn’t realize  _ you  _ knew about this place until just now,” Byleth reminded him. Idly, she watched as the two Claude had indicated surveyed the room for a spot of their own, but she shook her head when he moved to gesture for their attention. “Leave them be. They probably want some time alone to talk. Besides, we’re supposed to be discussing business, aren’t we?”

"C’mon, Teach. The night is young and so are we - so what can I get you from the bar?” Claude turned a slanted grin to her, but then soon shook his head. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll pick something out.”

He was gone before she had a chance to say much of anything and, though she frowned after him, Byleth didn’t have much time to think on it before she found herself joined at the table by the two whom Claude had earlier indicated.

“You should’ve told us you were going out drinking, Professor. You know we’d have been happy to join you,” Sylvain spoke cheerfully as he settled into a chair across from Byleth. “Though I don’t know if this is the best place to go drinking alone.”

Felix wasn’t nearly as chatty as he sank into a chair between Sylvain and Byleth. “I thought you were going to be working all night, Professor.”

“We were, but I think everyone was getting tired of arguing without getting anywhere,” Byleth shrugged a bit. “Claude suggested we all go out for some drinks to get conversation going again, but neither Lorenz nor Seteth seemed that interested.”

“So you decided to go out alone,” the redhead nodded, then tipped his head curiously. “Well, not really  _ alone,  _ I guess. Alone with just you and Claude.”

“Right. We saw the two of you come in, but I thought you’d probably want some privacy, so…” Byleth shrugged again as she trailed off. Idly, she wondered if her words seemed too defensive, but that was mostly due to the slight shift in Felix’s expression every time either of them spoke of her being alone with Claude. The thought that he could be upset at that struck her as being absolutely absurd, though.

“No, we’re good, Professor,” Sylvain assured her with a slight wave of his hand. “Really, I just wanted an excuse to drag him away from the training grounds for a while.”

“You should let him train, Sylvain,” she chided him lightly. “Or maybe you should train with him? It probably wouldn’t hurt you to get a bit more practice.”

“Great, now you two are even starting to  _ sound  _ alike.”

Both Byleth and Felix seemed eager to jump on Sylvain, to demand to know exactly what he  _ meant  _ by that last comment, but, luckily for the redhead, neither had the chance; just then, Claude made his return and, with a showy gesture, he placed a rather sizable tray of glasses in the middle of the table. 

“I think this should be enough to get our game started,” he mused as he settled himself into the only free chair. “We can always get a few more, if we start to run out.”

“Our game?” Byleth echoed as she lifted her eyes from the many glasses full of liquids of nearly every shade to Claude’s wide grin. “You didn’t say anything about playing games.”

“Well, now that we have some good company, it’d be boring to just drink,” Claude explained further. “Besides, this is supposed to be all about unwinding and what better way to do that than to play a drinking game with friends?”

“We’re not frie--”

“Nice idea, but one flaw,” Sylvain cut off Felix’s complaint easily. “Playing drinking games isn’t much fun when one of the group never gets drunk.”

Byleth rolled her eyes faintly at the accusation, as true as it was, but she soon followed it with a shrug. “I won’t play, then. I can just...judge. Or supervise. Or chaperone or...whatever the rules call for from someone who doesn’t drink.”

“Now, now, Teach, what fun would  _ that  _ be?” Claude laughed and wagged a finger lightly in her direction before turning a wink to Sylvain. “The fact that our lovely Professor doesn’t get drunk is the reason I invested in these glasses of far more expensive liqueurs; they’re the only thing that can get to her.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes at Claude, but she soon just sighed and shook her head. “Well, that’s what I get for trusting the grand schemer, isn’t it? I suppose I’ll have to watch myself better in the future.”

“Wait. Wait a minute. How do you know what gets the Profesor drunk?” Felix demanded as he leaned over the table. Finding no answer from Claude, he turned a narrow glare to Byleth. “Professor, how does he know what gets you drunk?”

“I know because I’ve seen it work in the past,” Claude explained in Byleth’s place. “Anyway, should we get started? Everyone, roll a die so we know what order we’re going in.”

The order of turns was quickly determined - Claude, then Sylvain, then Felix, and Byleth last - and Claude moved on to explain the rules as he handed out drinks to the rest of the table. “It’s pretty simple, and I think we can learn as we go. Basically, on your turn, take and roll the dice, but keep your total concealed under the cup. Tell your score to the person who goes after you, but make sure you declare the higher number first because if you do it wrong, then you have to drink a penalty cup.” To demonstrate, he rolled the dice, took a moment to get his score, and then looked to Sylvain. “Okay, I’ll say that I have a thirty-two. So now, Sylvain can either accept my score and just try to roll a lower one or he can call me out as a liar.”

Sylvain narrowed his eyes and stared at Claude for a long moment, before shrugging. “Let’s say I call you out, then. What now?”

“You never just trust me, do you?” Claude sighed as if heartbroken, then continued to explain as he lifted the opaque cup to reveal two dice, one reading three and the other two. “So, you called me out and were wrong, so now you have to drain your cup. After each round, the one with the highest score has to finish their cup and we go for...well, as long as we want, I guess.”

“No other penalties or anything we need to know about?” 

“Well, there are a few numbers to watch out for,” Claude amended after a moment’s thought. “If you roll a two and an one, then the eventual loser has to drink double, and if you roll a three and an one, then you have to immediately drain your drink.”

Once everyone agreed that they all had a fair grasp on the rules, the game began in earnest. The first few rounds were predictably clumsy, with a few cups having to be drained because rules were not followed or numbers were called out wrongly, but they all soon fell into a smooth rhythm. Perhaps predictably, Felix ended up being the one having to drink most often for falsely calling out Sylvain as a liar while both Sylvain and Claude seemed fairly evenly matched in both their ability to tell truth from fiction and in their ability to deceive. For her part, Byleth managed to hold her own in the beginning, but, once she was forced to take a few penalty drinks, she found that the effects of the liqueurs began to cascade; soon, she was fairly obviously having a hard time tracking much of anything.

To their credit, it did take quite a few hours and quite a few drinks for the game to fall apart entirely.

“That’s a lie. He’s obviously lying this time.”

  
“Nice call, Felix, but it isn’t even your turn.”

“Wait, if he called you out and was right, but it was out of turn, that means…” Byleth furrowed her brow in confusion as she tried hard to reach back into her memories to find the rest of the rules. Nothing came forward, however, and so she simply sighed in defeat. 

“Well, Professor, I guess he would have to drink, but it’d be pretty cruel to make him have any more, I think.” Sylvain supplied, after a moment. He turned a slightly worried glance to the dark-haired swordsman currently leaning heavily on the table and shook his head. “Maybe we should call the game?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take his penalty drink, then,” Byleth offered valiantly. She reached to claim the single glass with any alcohol in it at the center of the table, but Claude quickly snatched it out of her reach. 

“I...don’t think so. I think you’re done, too, Teach.” he announced as he lightly placed the glass to the side. “Why don’t the two of you head back to the monastery? Or..can you two make it back on your own?”

“Doesn’t much look like it,” Sylvain sighed, getting to his feet. “Listen, I’ll take the big, dumb one, if you take the little, dumb one?”

Felix seemed to be content enough to be helped to his feet by Sylvain, but his demeanor changed a bit when he noticed Claude reaching to help Byleth to stand. “Wait, wait a minute. Don’t do that.  _ I’ll  _ help her back.”

Claude froze, one arm draped lightly around the tactician’s waist, and he blinked in open surprise for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s a nice offer, Felix, but you can’t even help yourself back, right now.”

“I’m fine, anyway,” Byleth insisted as she gently pulled away from Claude’s grasp and took a less-than-steady step away from the table. “I can find my way back just fine.”

“We’ll find our way back just fine,” Felix agreed as he replaced the arm Claude had just removed from around Byleth’s waist with his own. 

Byleth arched an eyebrow at this; she knew that having Felix touch her in public was just something that  _ did not happen _ . It  _ especially  _ did not happen when Sylvain and Claude, two who were so open to teasing him mercilessly about so many things, were around. So, while she very much enjoyed both the warmth and the added security this small gesture offered, she did have to wonder just how drunk her swordsman was, at the moment. 

“Felix, you know, maybe you should let Sylvain help you out,” she murmured quietly. “I think you’re drunker than you think.”

“What are you saying?” Felix blinked in response. “That...that makes no sense, Profesor.”

“You know what? I give up. You two deserve each other,” Sylvain half-sighed and half-laughed, held up his hands, and sunk back into his chair. Crossing his legs, he turned a curious glance to Claude. “Hey, Master Tactician, do you know any games that can be played by two?”

Claude grinned smoothly as he returned to his own chair. “Oh, I think I can come up with something.”

  
  
  
  
  


Byleth wasn’t ready for it to be over.

Even once they left the master tactician and redheaded cavalryman to their games. Even once they got lost and distracted in the small room where the citizens of the Abyss often left their unwanted junk and discarded treasures. Even once they emerged from the Abyss into the cool early morning air of Garreg Mach; Byleth still wanted to just walk beside Felix, to feel his strong arm confidently around her waist in a way he normally wouldn’t dare. It wasn’t the greatest intimacy they had shared, not by a long shot, but it was still a small something she really hadn’t ever experienced with him before; she wanted it to last a little longer.

“Felix?” 

“Hm?”

“I know it’s late -- or, well, it’s early, I guess, but would you mind taking a little walk with me before we go back to our rooms?” She glanced almost shyly at him from the corner of her eye. “I won’t even ask you to hold my hand, this time.”

Felix snorted a small laugh, shook his head, and shifted his hand from her waist so that he could thread his long, slender fingers through her own. This time, Byleth was pleased to notice, he seemed to have found the perfect balance between tightness and softness as he gave her fingers a small squeeze. “Lead on, then. There’s something I want to ask you, anyway.”

Byleth hummed in thought as she started to slowly meander through the familiar grounds, leading him past the so-familiar training grounds and along the pleasant path toward the officer’s academy. “Hm, that sounds pretty ominous. If you’re going to yell, I’ll remind you that I wasn’t the one who suggested drinking games, tonight.”

“No, but you didn’t object too strongly, either.” He pointed out, then shook his head. “It’s not about the stupid game, anyway; that was fine. Well, mostly fine.”

As they came to the middle of the lush green grass of the courtyard outside the academy, Byleth pulled him to a gentle stop. She turned to face him and, catching his free hand with her unoccupied own, she glanced up to quietly study him for a moment before speaking again. “Okay, what is it, then?”

Felix sighed, struggled with himself for a moment, and then seemed to decide on just asking outright. “You dodged the question earlier, but I want to know: how  _ did  _ Claude know that those liqueurs get you drunk?”

Byleth found a laugh escaping her lips before she could catch it and she almost immediately felt terrible about it, if just for the way it made Felix frown at her. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It isn’t funny. I know it isn’t funny,” she apologized quickly, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I just never thought I’d really see someone who’s so disinterested in love and romance and passion act like a jealous lover.”

And now he was bristling as he always did, releasing her hands in a flurry and stepping back as if she were contagious. “I am  _ not  _ acting like a jealous lover.” He paused, then, and narrowed his eyes at her. “Is there a reason for me to be jealous?”

“Felix, you really can’t think that little of me,” Byleth sighed and shook her head. “Claude is a good friend and...that’s about it. I never had a brother or any sort of sibling growing up, but I sort of imagine that’s how it would feel.” She paused as she tried to find more words in order to explain it better, but words never quite came easily - and especially not words that came tied into all these new emotions.

Frowning, she walked over to one of the benches which lined the lawn and on this she sat, choosing the middle so she could arrange herself with her side pressed against the back and her legs drawn up against her chest. Tipping her head back, she stared at the slowly lightening sky for a moment before continuing. “The reason Claude knows about the liqueuers is because he came across me drinking some in my room, once. It was just after my father died and they were all I could find. I think Manuela gave them to me to cheer me up, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

Felix continued to regard her with a small frown for another long moment, but he soon shook his head. With a sigh, he moved to join her on the bench and he sat so that they were back-to-back, his weight leaning lightly against her own. “Right, well, sorry. I guess it was foolish to get upset about it. Even if it is a weird thing for him to know.”

“It’s cute,” Byleth teased. She reached over her shoulder and, once her fingers found a stray bit of his hair, she tugged lightly at it. “I never would have guessed that Felix Hugo Fraldarius could get jealous.”

Before he could catch it, Felix found himself responding to the light tug with a small, quiet noise, but he quickly moved to speak before Byleth could call attention to it. “I am not cute, Professor.”

“Oh, I disagree,” she chuckled, then paused a moment before speaking again. “Hey, Felix…”

“Hm?”

“Do something for me?”

Felix paused, as if having to consider it, before answering. “A favor or something more formal?”

Byleth half-laughed. “Alright, call it my boon, if it makes you happy. I’ll just win another one in a day or two.”

“Unlikely,” he snorted, then gestured lightly with his hand. “Go on.”

Now, it was her turn to pause for a long moment before speaking again and Byleth found herself suddenly quite glad that they were back-to-back instead of face-to-face. “Call me by my name?”

“What? Why are you wasting your reward on  _ that _ ?”

“Felix, c’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“No, seriously. I’ve called you by name before.”

Byleth sighed, slightly irritated and mildly embarrassed. “Maybe I want to hear what it sounds like when it’s not being moaned or panted in a moment of passion.”

“You never complained about it before,” Felix pointed out, sounding quite smug. “Or would you rather I call you Professor, then, too?”

“Stars above, Felix, don’t you dare,” Byleth muttered as she buried her face against her knees. “I can’t imagine that’d be good for either of us.”

He laughed in response to that. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do,  _ Byleth _ .”

The sound of her name on his lips, said in that deep and wonderful rumble of his voice, sent a distinct thrill through her body. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself, promising herself that she’d always remember this particular moment. “Oh, it’d be greedy to ask you to say it again, wouldn’t it?”

There was a certain hunger in her voice that she couldn’t quite hide as the words slipped from her lips, but Byleth felt no need to try to call them back; she had gone so long without hearing anyone call her by name - to hear it now from someone who meant so much to her, it was almost beyond her ability to cope.

“Hm, I don’t know, Byleth.”

It sounded just as good the second time. And every time after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, the dice game they played is based (loosely and explained badly) on the game 21. I chose it mostly because a bluffing game with this crowd seemed pretty fun (and sort of appropriate). 
> 
> Also, sorry for the length? I think it got out of my control at some point.


	8. Hear Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong.

The end of the next moon found the Alliance army marching its way deeper into Imperial territory. While the defensive forces of Houses Riegan and Daphnel drew the attention of Gloucester, the main forces of the Alliance marched toward the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Here, they hoped to achieve as decisive of a victory as their last; the added benefits of having Count Gloucester on their side and having complete control over the Airmid River only made the already sweet idea of a victory over the Empire even sweeter. No one dared to claim that it would be an easy victory, but none dared to question their faith in Claude and Byleth to achieve the impossible, either.

Felix was used to the ebb and flow of battle; if he could be said to have a natural element, then this would be it. With his sword in one hand and his shield over the forearm of the other, he moved as easily across the battlefield as a dancer maneuvered over the stage - but, no, _something was different_.

Felix grit his teeth. Alongside his frustration there was a quiet instinct within telling him something had gone wrong. He ignored it and focused on Sylvain instead. The dark knight was a few meters in front of him, drawing the attention of the heavily wounded demonic beast. All the swordsman needed to do once the creature was distracted was slash the beast through its chest or neck. That would be a killing blow. The beast bellowed its pain to the sky, reared up on its hind legs, and then fell to the ground with a final, teeth-chattering crash. 

“That’s the last of them,” Sylvain reported, wheeling his horse around to position at the swordsman’s side. Given his better vantage point, he narrowed his eyes and peered across the twin bridges to where the last of the fighting was taking place. “Think we should clean up here or go help Professor and Claude with the rest of them?”

Felix didn’t have the advantage of being on horseback and his unremarkable height offered him no real way of knowing the pace of the battle across the way. Still, even from the ground, he could easily spot a pair of wyverns chasing up into the sky. He watched as the rider of the first drab wyvern wheeled her beast around gracefully. She then guided it back down, below where his gaze could follow. The second rider, who for his strikingly white wyvern and golden clothes could only be Claude, paused at the height of his arc and drew his bow taut. The volley of arrows never fell, however.

“Shit. _Shit._ ” 

The tone in Sylvain’s voice immediately drew his attention, but Felix’s words stopped before they had begun. His eyes narrowed in aggravated suspicion as Sylvain’s easily turned his large warhorse to block the path forward along the bridge. 

“You know, let’s clear this area out. There’s only a few left,” Sylvain spoke cheerfully, but Felix knew that he was forcing a tone. Forcing _that_ tone. The one he only ever used when he was trying too hard and covering too much. 

Accompanied by a cold rush through his veins, that sense of _wrongness_ spiked in him for the second time since the battle’s beginning. A sudden movement caught from the corner of his eye told Felix that there was no time to listen to his instinct, though. Instead, he eased his sword from its sheath as a stray Imperial mage pushed his way past a pair of battle-distracted Alliance soldiers. Too preoccupied with the Imperial knights before them, the soldiers failed to notice the mage gathering his energies behind them. Felix and Sylvain moved at almost the same instant to silence the mage, but the dark knight had the advantage of using a longer weapon. With a hard downward thrust, his spear pierced through the chest of the mage and one threat was gone. From there, it was easy work for Felix to distract the Imperials from behind while the Alliance soldiers and Sylvain picked them off at ease. Before long, the Imperials laid at their feet and the dark knight and the swordsman found themselves awash in gratitude. 

“That looks to be the last of them, sirs,” one of the soldiers spoke. “Now, it’s just up to them at the front to—” The man’s words were cut short as cries for healers echoed down from the other side of the bridge. In response, the cadre of faith mages, led by Marianne, hurried to the front lines. 

Briefly, Felix stared after them, but he soon made the quick decision to follow. Just as he set foot on the wood of the bridge, however, a strong hand grabbed him by his upper arm. In response, he did stop short, but only so that he could glare hard at the cause of the interruption. He stared hard at the familiar gauntlet for a moment, before raising a narrow, dangerous look to its owner. 

“ _Get your hand off of me unless you want to lose it_ ,” Felix growled at Sylvain. His voice, deep and dark in his throat, sounded almost alien to his own ears. The icy rush of his blood and the rapid pounding of his pulse made it almost impossible for him to even hear himself, though. “You _know_ something happened, you’re not going to tell me what it is without playing games, and _I’m not having it_. Let me go or I’ll pull you off your damned horse and drag you with me.”

“Felix, trust me. This isn’t something you need to see, right now, and—”

Sylvain’s reply was lost in a startled shout as Felix threw all his weight into tugging back his arm. Given his natural advantages in height, weight, and strength, Sylvain would usually have little trouble dealing with such a maneuver. Right now, though, Sylvain was leaned over the side of his horse and very much off-balance. He also had only one hand to grip on the pommel of the saddle and steady himself as his horse danced and fretted under the unexpected movements.

The advantage belonged to Felix and, from the look in each set of eyes, they both knew it.

“Felix, you’re going to regret this,” Sylvain exhaled an utterly humorless laugh. Still, he released his hold on the swordsman’s arm. Instead of pulling his hand away entirely, he re-extended it in offering. “Get up behind me. It’ll be faster.”

Felix ignored the offered hand-up, but he did eventually move to pull himself onto the saddle behind the other. As he swung his leg over the broad back of the horse, he spotted a flurry of movement in the sky and he narrowed his eyes. He tried to make out any of the fine details, but all that caught his attention was a brief flare of familiar mint green.

“That’s Claude’s wyvern. He’s the only one I know who rides a white one with regalia like that,” Sylvain muttered distractedly. “Looks like he’s heading back toward...Garreg Mach?”

The ride across the bridge was both far too long and far too short. 

The battle had all but ended, so there was no resistance as Sylvain expertly guided his horse forward. At the far side of the bridge, they found that the Alliance ranks had already fallen into more relaxed groups. A handful stood discussing the battle and comparing their results, while another sat sullenly as the healers moved amongst them. The priests gently soothed away wounds that were more inconveniences over anything life-threatening. To the side, the body of the Imperial general sprawled beneath the weight of her wyvern. Her dull brown beast bristled with arrows and its skin was darkened and charred in broad patches by magical flame. 

To the other side stood Hilda. She was boredly leaning her weight against the long handle of her ax and mostly ignoring the shock-pale Ferdinand von Aegir slumped on the ground behind her. “Really, Mari, shouldn’t you save it for our guys? Why bother healing this jerk when they’re just gonna kill him when we get back.”

“That isn’t true, Hilda,” Marianne chided lightly. She didn’t bother looking up from her efforts to tend to a rather significant series of wounds on the Imperial noble as she spoke. “No one’s going to kill him.”

Lysithea shook her head, “It’s too soon to say that.”

“Well, he _is_ an Imperial noble. If we can convince him to aid us--”

Felix wasn’t listening. He wouldn’t have cared, not much anyway. He especially couldn’t bring himself to care when his gaze kept being drawn to a large, shapeless splash of dark crimson. His amber gaze lingered on a fresh bloodstain which covered a large portion of the stone and wood.

It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t _have_ to mean anything, just as it didn’t _have_ to be hers. 

Blood fell easily in a battle such as this. _This_ blood could have easily fallen from any of the ones who fought for the bridge. _This_ blood could have easily fallen from the defeated Imperial general. _This_ blood could have easily fallen from the wounded Imperial noble. _This_ blood could belong to anyone. Still, Felix could no longer ignore the way looking at it caused the nausea of wrongness to rise in the back of his throat. The way it caused his heart to pound. The way it caused fire and ice to chase through his veins. It felt as if it were the truth of it were written in letters too large to ignore.

“Byleth, where is she?” Felix was surprised at how level, how normal, his voice sounded when he spoke. “She was fighting here on the front line, wasn’t she?”

Sylvain voiced another humorless, forced laugh as he looked over his shoulder to the dark-haired swordsman. “Calling her by name, are we? That’s pretty informal, isn’t it?”

Felix wouldn’t let himself be baited by Sylvain’s typical attempt to sidetrack his thoughts, to change his mood. He shook his head as he eased himself to the ground. He stepped lightly around to the front of the warhorse and a bit closer to that ominous splash of deep, deep red. “Claude left, too. We saw his wyvern.”

“Yea, they left just now,” Hilda agreed with a slow, careful nod. “Claude’s taking her back to Garreg Mach since he can go faster on his own with his wyvern and all.”

“Let’s just tell him,” Lysithea said. She moved to approach Felix, but she stopped short just on the other side of the bloodstain. “Professor got hurt pretty badly during the fight so Claude’s taking her back. Guess he thinks that Manuela and the others can do better for her where it isn’t the middle of a battlefield.”

Felix nodded numbly. His eyes slid away from watching the face of the diminutive mage and his focus changed to the pale, blood-splashed face of Ferdinand von Aegir. Felix could find no obvious wounds on the head or neck of the Imperial noble. He knew that this likely meant that the blood sprayed there was not his own. Much like the blood which covered the broken spear lying at his side. 

“She’ll totally be fine, though!” Hilda cheered enthusiastically. “I mean, you know the Professor, right? If she can cut through the sky and come back to us like it’s nothing, then this should be super easy for her!!”

Felix barely heard her. He could barely hear anything over the loud beat of his heart and the low scrape of his sword as he eased it from its sheath. 

* * *

The quiet rhythm of the rain against the cobblestones gently lulled Felix. Still, he crossed his arms loosely over his chest and fought hard against the threat of sleep. Leaning against the thick wooden post just outside Byleth’s room, he yet again sought hard to hear any noise from within, but the thick wooden door and the whisper of the rain denied him. 

Three days. It had been three days since Byleth had been carried from the Great Bridge. It had been two days since Felix and the rest of the Alliance had arrived back to Garreg Mach. It had been nearly a whole day since he had moved from this spot, but that hardly mattered; it had been three days since he had last seen Byleth and had known that she was well, that she was whole, that she was _alive_. He had been told so, sure, but there was a world of difference between hearing and seeing.

Much like a beast harrying its tired prey, his exhausted mind kept approaching and retreating from a single thought: last time, it had been five years. Even if she survived, how long would it be _this_ time?

Felix shook his head. He still wasn’t sure he believed any of that. 

Byleth had vaguely explained to them that she had been sleeping, recovering, for those first five years of the war. Even if he had been more relieved to see her alive than he’d ever be willing to say, Felix had still found it to be a blatantly ridiculous claim. He had gotten angry about it and it had turned into a long-standing sore spot between them. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he believed, even now. 

It just sounded like so much garbage to his ears. It sounded like a page plucked from a childish fairy tale; something meant to inspire insipid hope in little girls who had nothing ahead of them but a lifetime of dull drudgery. 

But could he really say that? Could he really believe that when he had witnessed her cut open the very sky? Was that not also like something from a poorly written fantasy?

“It’s ridiculous,” Felix muttered to the small black and white kitten curled against his ankle. It, of course, was one of the many which Byleth had taken to feeding, though it was the only one who stayed through the worst of the rainstorm. The kitten opened a tired green eye and mewed quietly in response to his words, but it soon settled back to its nap. “All of this is ridiculous. Byleth is Byleth. The Goddess is…” 

_Bullshit_ would have been how he finished that sentence, not so long ago. 

“The Goddess is the Light who bathes Fodlan in Her peace and Her mercy. To Her, we call with humble hearts…” Felix winced, once he realized what he’d been saying. The words, part of an old prayer for intervention and healing, had been drummed into his head through his childhood and he supposed they had never really left; it had been such a disappointment to the Duke and the Duchess when it became obvious that both of their children heavily favored the sword over prayer - or much of anything else.

“Call with humble hearts, huh?” He half-laughed. Shaking his head, he half-swallowed a jaw cracking yawn. “I must be more tired than I thought.”

Still, if it could help her…

Still, if it was just a statement of belief. A statement not in belief of some nebulous Goddess on High, but of belief in the woman who stood so strong and so bold amongst the wreckage of this war. The woman he was not yet ready to lose, whether it be for five minutes, five days, or five years. The woman he lo--

“Hear me, Oh Goddess,” Felix started with good intention, but the words felt wrong. He shook his head and groaned in frustration. “Look, If you are the Goddess and you are out there listening, then you already know what this is. I shouldn’t have to even say anything.”

He turned his head and glared meaninglessly into the gloomy evening light. “I’m probably just talking to myself, anyway, but I’d really like to have her back, now. It’s ridiculous that you’ve taken her away twice when she still has work to do. If you’re worried that she’s always in danger, then stop forcing her to get in dangerous situations.” 

“Look, I know. I know that it isn’t easy to keep her from running head-first into danger. You might as well ask the wind not to blow or fish not to swim,” Felix shook his head and clenched his fists at his sides. “So let me protect her. I can do it. I _will_ do it. I’ll protect her until the end of this idiotic war and even further. Just hear what I’m saying and bring her back to me.”

“ _Please_ …”

It had to be coincidence that, just a few minutes after his plea, a snow-white owl flew low over his head. Felix watched as it flapped through the newly opened door, startling Marianne badly enough to cause her to gasp loudly and release her hold on the doorknob. 

“Oh, for Goddess’ sake,” she sighed, pressing a hand against her chest. She seemed utterly unsurprised to see Felix still haunting the brief porch as she turned her eyes to him. “She’s awake, if you want to see her, but, please, don’t stay long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I say it still counts, even if the boon comes from Sothis instead of Byleth.


	9. Heal Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of Myrrdin. Healing, Confession, and Absolution.

In the darkest part of the moonless night, Byleth silently pulled the heavy double doors closed behind her. The _thud_ of them coming together made her wince, but she relaxed when no footsteps followed. Somehow, no one had heard and so it was unlikely that anyone would come to disturb her moment of stolen freedom. 

It had been one week since she’d awakened in her bed after the battle at the Bridge of Myrddin. Five days had passed since Marianne and Manuela had agreed that her body was again strong enough to more actively heal. Only a single day then, since those same two had declared Byleth would need a brief break before they could finish. Now, it had been all of a quarter of an hour since she had crept from the solitude of her room.

Slowly, Byleth exhaled the breath she’d been holding ever since she’d escaped her room. The quiet sound of her footsteps chased her across the arena as she made her way to the rack of training weapons. Here, she paused only a moment before eagerly taking a sword into hand and she found herself grinning in pleasure as she cut a small slash through the air.

Still, as she had once been warned, her time of forced bed rest had caused her body to predictably weaken. Her movements were more clumsy and slower than she would have liked and the untreated wounds across her chest protested against any movement greater than a gesture. Her personal discomfort hardly mattered, though; she knew they were rapidly coming to a time when every sword would be needed. She assumed that was doubly true for the one who wielded the Sword of the Creator. 

Without her realizing, her expression soured further toward a scowl.

_The Sword of the Creator. Lady Rhea. Claude. Lord Gloucester._

Not all that long past, religion and politics had meant nothing to her. Now, as soon as she was healthy enough, she knew that Claude would insist on having her accompany Lorenz to visit his father. Claude had explained to her that the Count was a very religious man. He had explained further that her position and standing in the Church could be just enough pressure to influence him to be very generous with his donation of supplies and men; it wouldn’t hurt, he strongly suggested, if she openly carried the Sword along for the meeting.

Byleth allowed a small sound of frustration to escape her lips. The momentum of her slashes moved her across the stone floor of the grounds, but her mind and her body were moving separately from one another. Her mind was caught on the idea that she wasn’t Rhea. She didn’t _want_ to be Rhea. There were times she hardly wanted to be seen as the Archbishop, especially when it was never made clear that the last one was no longer around to resume her role. Still, they marched under the banner of the Crest of Flames. Still, they used both her sword and her position to further their cause. Still, Claude maneuvered her forward, his pawn...rather his bishop on a chessboard of which she never knew the full layout.

The sudden _crack_ of her training sword against another pulled Byleth from her resentful thoughts. Her mind and her body finally managed to catch one another, just in time for her to be forced backward by a heavy shove against her blade. She stumbled for a few quick steps, caught herself, and turned to face a sharp glare she hadn’t seen since the earliest days of her career at Garreg Mach.

“I thought I heard someone,” Felix growled. His voice was low and his expression sharp as he eyed her. Just as when he had been her student instead of her equal, he looked rather displeased with the entire situation. “Are you here to train?”

Byleth exhaled a slow breath through her teeth. She lowered her sword-arm to its side, but she wouldn’t allow herself to relax entirely. “Just to get some exercise. Someone once told me that being idle too long causes muscles to wither and we can’t have that in the middle of a war.” 

“Don’t make it into a joke. Considering what you just put yourself and everyone else through, don’t you _dare_ make it into a joke,” he responded heatedly. His eyes narrowed to slits as he used the tip of his sword to gesture toward her midsection. “Especially if you can’t even keep yourself from foolishly reopening your wounds.”

As she glanced down at herself, she slid a hand up along the rough texture of the bandages covering her skin. Though they felt as intact as they had before, she noted that there were quite a few splotches of dark red dotted over the surface of both her stomach and her chest. She winced slightly. Honestly, once she had become so lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t even felt the discomfort or pain of her wounds.

“I didn’t even notice,” Byleth murmured half to herself. Without moving her head, she lifted her gaze to meet his continued glare through her eyelashes. “I really didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry, Felix.”

“Hm, well, just think a bit next time.” He muttered. Lowering his sword, he slowly walked toward her, but stopped when they were still a few paces apart. “Come on, then. I’ll walk you back to your room and then see if I can get Marianne to come look at your injuries.”

“No, you won’t!” She objected. “Felix, it’s the middle of the night. I’m not dragging anyone out of bed and especially not for something as minor as this. It’ll be fine until morning.”

“I thought you were over your fear of healers.”

“I told you; it’s not that I’m afraid of healers,” Byleth paused mid-thought. She squinted her eyes at him and, looking more closely, she thought she noticed the corner of his lips threatening to quirk upwards into a smirk. It honestly would not have occurred to her before, but she came to realize that Felix of all people was actually trying to tease her. 

Narrowing her eyes further, she leaned into the distance between them. She spoke then, as if sharing a most confidential secret. “Well, to be honest, there is one healer I don’t mind asking for help.”

“And I told you I’d go find Marianne, but you stopped me,” Felix sighed exaggeratedly and crossed his arms. “Make up your mind, woman.”

Snorting quietly, Byleth extended her arm and _clunked_ the tip of her practice sword against his own. “Just make yourself happy and heal me, already.”

“That sounds like a demand,” he mused. He eyed her in silence for a long moment before speaking again. “Or the calling of a boon. Is there still one I owe you?”

Byleth leaned her head back and curled her fingers under her chin as she thought. “I think we each have one in reserve? It’s been busy, lately, so there hasn’t been much time to think about it.” 

The conspicuous pause before Felix spoke again caused her to quirk a questioning eyebrow, but neither side seemed eager to draw attention to it.

“Ah,” was his only reply for a very long moment. Then, as if to cover the awkward break, Felix closed the distance between them. Meeting no resistance, he plucked the practice sword from her fingers and then moved to replace both on the rack. “Well, if you’re set on having me heal you, then just remember it’s not going to work as well as if Marianne or someone else did it.”

“That’s fine. It doesn’t really hurt or anything, anyway.” Byleth lied easily. The fingers that had been curled under her jaw drifted down to rub lightly over the bandages which surrounded her throat. Idly, she wondered if the wrapping here was as bloody as the ones over her chest and ribs, but it was too late to worry, now; she had already laid down her request. “You’re probably against the idea of healing me here, aren’t you?”

“ _Here_?” There was a distinct combination of outrage in his voice and embarrassment in his expression as he whirled around to face her again. His skin was slightly flushed and his amber eyes were wide as he stared at her. It almost made him look as if he were staring at something alien. “Why would you even want to...what’s wrong with…you do realize that I’d need to see what I’m healing?”

“I’d guessed so, yes.”

Felix looked as if he had to put all his energy into not burying his face in his gloved hand. “And the opened wounds are on your stomach and _chest_.”

“Both of which you’ve seen, more than once.” Byleth cocked an eyebrow at him. It was true that she was fully aware of what he was getting at; she just wasn’t as concerned about it as he seemed to be. 

“It’s not about what _I’ve_ seen or haven’t seen,” he sighed in exasperation. “Why are you so set on doing this here when it can easily be done in your room? What is _wrong_ with you? Are you _actually_ a beast?”

“Felix, it’s the middle of the night.” To emphasize her point, she gestured to the mostly dark hall around them and then to the starry patch of sky visible overhead. “No one’s awake and, even if they are, they aren’t worrying about what’s going on here.”

“Hn,” Felix muttered an unhappy noise. Still, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that Byleth wasn’t about to let him win this argument. Admitting his defeat, he gestured for her to do as she might like. “Fine, have it your way, but don’t be surprised if I ask you for something later.”

“That seems fair.” She nodded agreeably. “You have a boon to call against me, anyway. Or if you don’t want to use that...I owe you. I’ve worried you a lot, lately.”

“Hm,” was his second non-committal reply of the night on the subject of owing boons. Before it could be commented upon, however, Felix hurried to continue the conversation. “Let’s worry about one debt at a time. If you’re really going to insist on doing this here, then sit on the floor for me.”

Again, Byleth cast him a curious glance. Again, she chose to let the obvious attempts at avoidance slide, if just to help things go a bit more smoothly. 

Instead of calling him out, she arranged herself cross-legged on the floor. A moment after settling, her plain black shirt was tossed carelessly to the side and her nimble fingers quickly began to work at unwinding some of the bandages from over her chest. She was so engrossed in her task that she didn’t bother to look up when Felix sat himself across from her. It was the noise which escaped him when she finally let the last of the bandages fall away that immediately drew her gaze.

The expression slowly spreading over his features broke her stilled heart. 

There had been many faces that she had seen Felix wear. His common scowls warded away even the most persistent. On the battlefield his face was determined, enough maybe to move the Oghma Mountains. In their private moments the man even wore softer, more tender expressions that were meant for her. The current blend of pain, sorrow, and anger, however, was something she had never before seen. It was also something which she never wished to see again. 

“Hey, it really isn’t that bad,” she murmured. Gently, she reached to lightly soothe her fingertips over the contour of his cheek and down to his throat. Resting her hand at the side, she rubbed firm circles against the nape of his neck. “It just looks worse than it is. Another session or two with Marianne and Manuela and it’ll be like it never happened.”

Felix swallowed hard, seemed to struggle for words, then simply shook his head. His eyes, chips of frozen copper, scraped over the flesh exposed to him, but couldn’t seem to settle. It took a long moment, but he finally managed to rasp out a few words. “I’m glad.”

Tentatively, Byleth nodded. “Me, too. I’ll be glad when all of this is behind us, too.”

“No, not that.” He shook his head again and his expression hardened to match the coldness of his eyes. “I’m glad I killed that noble bastard.”

She gasped and winced without really meaning to do so. Earlier, she had been told that Ferdinand had died during the last campaign; it had just never been explained to her that Felix had been the one who had caused his death. Knowing it now, she found it a bit hard to raise her eyes to meet his own. Suddenly, she found that the hall felt a bit too small for the both of them.

“I think you were right before,” Byleth finally managed, after a prolonged pause. Moving her hand from his neck, she reached to retrieve her discarded shirt. “This isn’t the time or the place. I’ll be fine until morning.”

Felix drew a long, unsteady breath. He reached to wrap his fingers around her wrist, to stop her from leaving. “No. Just wait a minute. It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

For a long moment, she simply stared at the contrast of the dark leather of his gloved fingers against the pale skin of her wrist. Unhelpfully, her mind could only imagine splatters of crimson over the familiar tan of his glove. Byleth knew it was unfair; she was more deeply tainted by blood than any who stalked the battlefield. Still, she felt that this was different. This time, the corpse had a familiar face and a name. He had dreams and hopes of which she had been aware. He had also been trying to kill her. If it wasn’t for her ability to pulse, she knew that it was very likely would not be present for this conversation. 

She shook her head. “It’s not a good idea, Felix. You aren’t in the right state of mind to heal and I’m...I think I just need rest.”

“I said it’s fine,” His voice still held some of its earlier intensity, but she was pleased to see that the coldness had drained from his eyes. “Just let me do this.”

Chewing absently at her lower lip, she hesitated a moment longer, but a glimpse of something familiar in his eyes caused her to relax. Sighing slightly, she settled back into a comfortable position and nodded tentatively. “Alright. If you’re sure that you’re ready?”

There was no hesitation as Felix nodded and began to remove his gloves. “I’ve been ready.”

Byleth watched in rapt silence as he removed and discarded his gloves. The light touch of his bare fingertips on the damaged skin of her chest was both familiar and alien. As she felt the refreshing rush of his simple spell work over her, her eyes drifted shut of their own will and she felt her breath catch in her throat. It was far from the first time she had been healed like this, but somehow it felt so different when it was Felix casting for her.

All too soon, the spell ended, but his fingers lingered over her skin. “That’s about as much as I can do. It’s not bleeding anymore, at least.” 

Byleth allowed herself to breathe again, but she didn’t bother to open her eyes. Instead, she simply opted to enjoy the slightly rough feeling of his calloused thumbs stroking over her skin. She did slowly become aware, however, that he seemed to be tarrying over the one particular place. “It’s fine. Better than fine. Though you seem a bit distracted.”

“Hm?” Felix questioned distractedly. His fingers stilled for just a moment, but soon returned to tracing the faded scar which ran along her breastbone. “A little, maybe. This and the one on your back, they’re the only two scars you never want to talk about.”

“Those two scars, hm,” she sighed faintly. “The one on my back is just an embarrassing story. That one is…”

Unseen by her, he rolled his eyes. “More complicated, yes. That’s the exact same phrase you use every single time I bring it up.”

“Because it’s true. Felix, I…” Byleth frowned and allowed her words to trail off. Since she understood so little of it herself, she wasn’t sure how to even begin. When it seemed that the truth could so easily tear away all the fragile ties between them, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to risk telling him. 

Once again, she reached for him. Her hand came to rest against the side of his neck and her fingertips dipped under the high line of his collar. They moved slowly over the skin below and sought out the place she knew well, the one where she could feel the steady beat of his heart under the warmth of his skin. This spot had quickly become a favorite of hers and not only because of how sensitive it was for him.

Felix grumbled in annoyance. “Stop trying to distract me just because you don’t want to talk about it.”

Byleth shook her head. She opened her mouth as if wanting to speak and then closed it again without saying a word. Finally, she came to the decision that she would take the familiar route of actions over words. In a clear signal that she wanted him to follow her lead, she applied a bit of pressure to the back of his neck and urged him both closer to her and lower.

Predictably, he resisted. “I said stop trying to distract me. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You wanted to know about the scar? Well, this is part of it, too,” she explained. Her voice was uncharacteristically small and quiet, but she continued to apply pressure to him. “It..it’s probably easier for you to hear it, rather than to explain it.”

Confusion dominated Felix's expression, but her words did convince him to stop fighting her. He finally gave in and allowed his head to be guided down. In the end, he came to rest with his ear pressed against her chest, over the scar which had long intrigued him. There, he was still for a moment, but soon his entire body stiffened. His hand scrambled for her arm and then raced to her wrist. Deft fingers sought out the inner portion of her wrist and then pressed inward with increasing desperation. “Byleth, you--”

Byleth breathed an unsteady sigh and bobbed her head in a quick nod. “It’s been like that ever since I was born. I...well, I was never meant to live, you see.”

Felix drew back from her as if burnt. “What is that supposed to mean? None of this makes any sense.”

“You’re telling me,” she laughed humorlessly. “I’m...I’m not sure _what_ it means and the only two people who could possibly explain it are my father and Rhea. All I really know is that my mother died in childbirth and that I was born without a heartbeat. Babies without heartbeats aren’t supposed to live and especially not instead of their mothers…”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t possibly be blaming yourself for the death of your mother.”

“ _Something_ happened that caused her death,” Byleth pointed out weakly. 

Felix countered, “Dying in childbirth is hardly rare.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed faintly. “But how many of those women who died in childbirth leave behind children who have no heartbeat or emotions? How many with the ability to pull at the strings of time?”

“There are probably more than--” As her last words finally registered, he found his own dying on his lips. He gaped at her for a moment and then laughed faintly. “The story about your heartbeat is unbelievable enough; you don’t need to add on top of it.”

“I’m not,” Byleth shook her head slowly. “Felix, remember when you complained that you felt odd ever since the battle at Myrddin? That you weren’t quite feeling yourself, even during the battle? I...I think it’s because I rewound time, there. I thought I could find a better path forward…”

Before he could catch himself, Felix snorted. “A better path forward, but you leave yourself with those injuries?”

Again, she shook her head. “It was the better choice.”

“Well, at least _that_ sounds like you,” he muttered. “I suppose asking what the other choice was won’t get me anywhere.”

“Rather not say,” Byleth agreed, then paused. “Wait, it...sounds like you believe me?”

“I’m not saying I do or I don’t,” Felix sighed. Allowing himself to relax, he settled his head back against her chest and reached to loosely tangle his fingers with her own. His head tilted back, he stared both up at her and at the hint of sky past her profile. “Would it matter if I do believe? I mean, you could just rewind time or whatever and I’d never know you told me.”

She half-snorted. “It’s nice to know you think I’d use my abilities for something as petty as that.”

He smirked and closed his eyes. “PIty. It’s the only way you’ll ever win an argument with me, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I suppose I had more to say about what happened at Myrrdin. Yes, I can hear you asking when we'll get to the fireworks factory. It'll happen. It will. Really.
> 
> Also, posting this particular bit on Ferdinand's birthday seems a bad omen, but I've never been patient enough to wait.
> 
> Further, updates will likely be a bit sporadic for a bit since work-related things have started being more demanding. Apologies in advance to those who would be concerned and I honestly will try to be at least somewhat decent about updates.


	10. JUST A NOTE

Sorry for the confusion, guys!

I'm just adding this note here to point out that this latest update is actually chapter 2 instead of chapter 10.

Yes, it's out of order. Yes, it's confusing. Yes, I'm sorry.

So, newest chapter is chapter 2. Then we'll be back in swing of things with chapter 10 and so on.

Also, be aware the the new chapter 2 is NSFW so it's the one to skip if you're young or just not interested in that sort of thing.

Very, very sorry for the inconvenience and confusion caused by all of this.

As ever, thank you so much for your patience and understanding.


End file.
